


Jump In The Fire

by WriterWhoWrites



Series: Shout At The Devil [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Have a Good Relationship, Billy Hargrove is a Mess, Coming Out, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Making Out, Neil Hargrove is His Own Warning, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage, Period-Typical Homophobia, Rape Aftermath, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Smut, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 63,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23603266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterWhoWrites/pseuds/WriterWhoWrites
Summary: Billy Hargrove arrives at Hawkins High at age sixteen with a blue Camaro and a black eye. He figures he can coast through small town life until graduation.He quickly learns that there's more to Hawkins that meets the eye. And maybe that's not entirely a bad thing.Chapter 16: "I think a lot of people have treated you like crap."Snippet:"That a waterbed you got there?" Billy joked."Want to find out?" Steve smirked, pulling Billy into another kiss and walking him backwards until the backs of Billy's knees hit the edge of the bed.Billy sat back, pulling Steve in by the shirt, guiding him on top of him as he moved backwards, lying on his back on Steve's bed. Steve hummed against his lips, teasingly grinding their pelvises together, over their jeans. They made out like that for a while, Steve between Billy's bent legs, supporting himself on his forearms, Billy lightly tugging Steve's hair with one hand and caressing his back underneath his shirt with the other. It felt good, kissing like this, unhurried, lying on a soft mattress with Steve on top of him instead of sneaking kisses under the bleachers at school or steaming up a car. Steve started to unbutton Billy's shirt.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & Nancy Wheeler, Billy Hargrove & Neil Hargrove, Billy Hargrove & Susan Hargrove, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Jonathan Byers & Billy Hargrove, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson
Series: Shout At The Devil [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729687
Comments: 216
Kudos: 378





	1. "Hey look, there's another cow."

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic ever, so bear with me. 
> 
> I fudged around with ages and character bios. Basic background is that Neil and Susan got married when Billy and Max were eleven-going-on-twelve and nine, respectively. For the purposes of this story, I wanted the two to have a fairly good relationship—minor sibling squabbling, but nothing explosive like how it was in canon. This story will also go into Billy's relationships with Neil and Susan.
> 
> At the start of this fic, Billy is sixteen years old and starting at Hawkins High as a junior, so he's in the same year as Nancy and Jonathon, while Steve is starting his senior year.

"Okay, what are we listening to?" Billy held up two cassettes. "Scorpions or Metallica?"

"Blondie."

"No."

"Come on," Max pleaded. "You always choose the music."

"Yeah, 'cause it's my car," Billy laughed. "When you start driving, you can choose the music. But until then..." 

He took the Scorpions tape out of its case, jammed it into the player, and put the Camaro into reverse to back out of the driveway. Through the windshield, he watched Susan step out of the front door to wave goodbye. 

"Have a good day, guys!" she called out, her voice muffled through the glass. He and Max waved back and then they were on their way. 

It was a twenty minute drive from their house to the compound where Hawkins Middle and Hawkins High were located—Billy had done some driving around that weekend to figure out where everything (their schools, the arcade, the movie theater, etc) was— but it only took fifteen minutes if he sped, which he frequently did. But he adhered to the speed limit today. Partially because he wasn't in any rush to start at this new school, and partially because he wasn't in any mood to risk getting a speeding ticket. His dad had already popped him two days ago for not taking out the trash. Now he was going into his first day at a new school with fading black eye. Fantastic. 

"You nervous?" Max asked. 

"No," Billy lied. 

"Liar."

"I'm not nervous, Max."

"Then why were you puking all night?"

As much as Billy wanted to shoot back that he had only puked _once_ last night, thank you very much, it would only confirm Max's totally accurate suspicion that he was, in fact, nervous for the day. Billy had a tendency to puke when he was nervous, anxious, or scared. So sue him.

"Maybe I got sick because you were playing Blondie all night," he shot back. Max rolled her eyes. "At least I didn't cry like a fucking baby when Dad told us we were moving to this shithole town."

Another lie. He did cry that night. Only not immediately and not in the house like Max had because _men don't cry, Billy_. Billy had sucked it up, walked over to Amy Richardson's house, and cried in her room. Amy had been Billy's best friend since, like, kindergarten, and now he would probably never see her again, and long-distance calls were expensive, so their ten-year-long practice of calling each other almost every night to compare their answers on homework and to gossip about their classmates had come to an abrupt end. 

"You know it's ok to, like, feel things, right?" Max said after a moment.

"Mmhm, thank you very much for that, Mister Rogers."

"Cow," Max said abruptly, pointing out of Billy's window. 

"Cow?" Billy repeated automatically, stealing a glance at the small pasture they were driving past. It had become A Thing for them immediately after arriving in Indiana, to point out the farm animals they saw from the car. One of them would say the name of the animal and the other would repeat it. It was stupid, but so was moving to Indiana. 

"Are _you_ nervous?" Billy asked. 

"Yeah," Max admitted. She scraped her nails lightly against her skateboard. "A little."

Billy was quiet for a minute. Max had never been shy about expressing her feelings. Not with him, at least. He was jealous of her, that she was able to do that. Just...say how she was feeling without any shame or hesitation. Then again, Susan had probably never reprimanded or yelled at her for showing emotion. He reached in his jacket pocket for his pack of Marlboros, shook one into his mouth, and lit it, all while keeping one hand on the wheel and his eyes on the road. He rolled down his window and took a drag, trying to keep the smoke away from Max. 

They were approaching the school lot. 

"Listen," Billy said, scanning for a parking spot. "You have nothing to be nervous about. You're from California and you know how to skateboard and that automatically makes you cool."

Max snorted. Billy looked over at her and saw that she was biting back a small smile. He pulled into a spot and put the car into park. 

"And," he continued. "The stupidest things _you_ say are still smarter and more interesting than the best things that _they_ say." 

"You're gonna rock this, right?" he asked. He made a fist and held it out to her.

"I'm gonna rock this," Max said. She made a fist and bumped it against his. They got out of the Camaro. Billy watched as Max launched off on her skateboard toward the middle school. He took a final drag of his cig and started walking to the high school.

* * *

His first class was English, and he was relieved because he had always been good at English. He liked reading and writing; it came naturally to him. Sometimes he'd even write his own stories—mostly science-fiction, sometimes horror. He'd never let anyone read them though, not even Amy. He kept them in a notebook, hidden in his nightstand. 

His new English teacher's name was Mrs. Delby. 

"Okay class, we have a new student joining us," Mrs. Delby said, keeping Billy in the front of the room. "Let's give a warm Hawkins welcome to William Hargrove."

"It's Billy," Billy said, keeping his tone neutral. 

"Okay, Billy," Mrs. Delby said, smiling. "Why don't you introduce yourself and tell us all a fun fact about yourself?"

The class was looking at him, expectantly. Billy didn't want to introduce himself or come up with a "fun fact" on the fly. He just wanted to take a seat, fade into the background, and coast until graduation. 

"I'm Billy," he said. "My fun fact is that I hate public speaking."

His response earned a few titters, mostly from the girls in the class. Mrs. Delby pointed him to an empty seat in the middle row, next to a slim brunette girl. 

"Hi," she said. "I'm Nancy."

"Hey."

Nancy was beautiful. And smart. She raised her hand a lot, giving well-thought-out answers about the assigned reading and raising good questions of her own. After the period ended, she walked out with Billy, swiping his class schedule. 

"We have biology together!" she said, pointing out the fourth period block. "And you have history with my friend Jonathon." 

In the forty-five minutes they had spent together, Nancy had evidently decided that they were going to be friends. Billy couldn't complain. Mostly because he didn't have any other options. 

"I think I saw you this morning in the parking lot," she said. "You were driving that blue car, right?" 

"Yeah, that was probably me," he said. 

"My boyfriend and I were parked, like, right next to you," she laughed. "Do you always blast the Scorpions, or was today special?"

Billy laughed.

"Today was special. Usually I blast Metallica."

* * *

As great as it was to meet Nancy, the rest of Billy's day...sucked. The other students at Hawkins High were clique-y. While some of the girls looked at him like he was a piece of meat, most of the guys took one look at his hair, his earring, and his outfit and gave him the side-eye. He thought he caught one guy whisper to his friend "he looks like a queer", but maybe he was just being paranoid. But maybe he wasn't. His look wasn't too out there back in San Diego. Maybe he needed to tone it down and adjust now that he lived in bumfuck Indiana. For his own survival, if for no other reason.

He met Jonathon briefly, but couldn't sit by him in history, and he also couldn't sit by Nancy in biology. He didn't see either of them in the cafeteria at lunch, and he felt way too nauseous to eat anything anyway, so instead, he went to the library and read a few chapters of the book he brought with him ( _The Infernal Desire Machines of Doctor Hoffman_ by Angela Carter). 

By the end of the day, all he wanted to do was speed home and hole himself up in his room, blast his music, and tune out everything and everyone. Or maybe speed towards the highway and keep driving until he was back in San Diego. Maybe Max had had a better day and would fill the car ride back home with chatter about her day and the friends that she had undoubtedly made. 

He was leaning against his car and finishing a cigarette when Max rolled up on her board. She didn't say anything, just got in the car. Shit.

"How was your day?" Billy asked when he got in. Max didn't answer right away. She stared out the window. 

"Stupid," she finally muttered. 

"Yeah," Billy agreed after a beat. He put in the Blondie tape he kept in the car for Max and turned up the volume. 

The two rode on without talking, each stewing in their own shitty days, together but separately. 

"Hey look," Billy said after they made the turn onto Cherry Lane. "There's another cow."

He caught Max's small smile, and had the distinct feeling that they would be okay. 


	2. "Maybe don't show up to school dressed like a serial killer."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween 1984. 
> 
> Billy, with cheap beer spilled on his bare chest, formally meets Steve Harrington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: teen drinking, drug use (it's just weed, relax), reference to a more-underage Billy having sex with an adult.
> 
> Updated to correct Billy's keg stand time. Didn't mean to do our boy dirty.

The rest of the month of October flew by in a flurry of homework, car rides, and settling into their new house on Cherry Lane. Billy's room was mostly unpacked—there were still a few boxes of miscellanea that he had opted to simply shove under his bed rather than take the time to go through. There was also the small box of things that were too painful to look at. The friendship bracelet that Amy had made him. Old photographs of him with his mother, and a few of just his mother.

The mixtape that Nate Perez had given him before kissing him breathless in the backseat of Nate's Ford, Billy's nostrils filling with the scent of Drakkar Noir and pot, his blood running hot and his heart pounding in his ears. 

_Gonna make you feel real good,_ _baby_ , Nate had growled in his ear. His breath had sent shivers all over Billy's body. Billy remembered how Nate had pushed him down on the seat and licked up his neck as he pulled his jeans off. Remembered how Nate had ripped a condom open with his teeth and rolled Billy onto his stomach before shoving a spit-soaked finger into him.

Nate's body had covered Billy's as he pounded into him, had pressed Billy's side-turned face into the seat by his hair as he grunted in his ear _yeah, boy, take that cock. You like that? Like me fucking that tight lil' hole of yours?_

Had seemed to misinterpret Billy's whimpers and hitched breaths as noises of pleasure instead of pain. When Nate had finished, he had sucked Billy off, an action that almost came across as an after thought. 

That night had been the first time Billy had had sex. He had just turned fifteen. Nate was older.

Billy never allowed himself to wonder why Nate had chosen him of all people to fool around with, and not choose someone closer to his own age. Someone who he could openly take to a show at Birch Bar instead of someone (Billy) who he had to sneak in through the backdoor. 

* * *

Billy was finishing up getting ready for school when someone knocked on his bedroom door. When he opened it, he couldn't help but startle a little bit at the miniature Michael Myers staring back at him. It was obviously Max, but still. Truth be told, Billy knew it would be Max before he even opened the door. His dad didn't knock. Susan did, sometimes, but not always. 

"Do you think people wear their Halloween costumes to school here?" Max asked from behind the mask. 

"Not in eighth grade," Billy snorted. He turned back to his mirror to finish doing his hair. Max was still there. " _What?_ " He had barely slept that night and was in no mood to have to talk Max out of wearing a costume to school. 

"Are you _sure_?" 

"Jesus, _yes,_ I'm sure."

Max finally went back to her room in a huff. They met again in the kitchen. Billy was seated across from Susan and next to his dad, who were reading the newspaper and drinking coffee. Max was dressed normally now, thank God. 

"No costume today?" Susan asked, surprised. 

"No," Max grumbled. "Billy told me it would be stupid to wear it to school."

Billy rolled his eyes and spooned another bite of cereal into his mouth. That wasn't exactly what he said. Sure, it was what he _meant_ but he didn't use those exact words. But whatever. 

" _Billy_ ," Susan said in her _come on, Billy, be nice to your sister_ tone. 

"All I meant was maybe don't show up to school dressed like a serial killer."

"I was dressed like Michael Myers from _Halloween,_ weirdo."

"Yeah, and Michael Myers is a serial killer."

"Stop talking about serial killers at the breakfast table," his dad suddenly said sharply, putting his newspaper down to glare at his son. 

"Yeah, you're right, it's more of a dinner conversation," Billy retorted before he could stop himself. He winced when his dad gave him a smack upside the head. It didn't hurt too much; it was more of a sharp shove than anything else. Susan pretended to be engrossed in an article she was reading. Max looked down as she chewed on her corn flakes.

* * *

The school day was nothing special. Nancy passed him a flyer for a Halloween party hosted by some girl named Tina who Billy vaguely remembered meeting, but probably wouldn't be able to pick out of a lineup. Back in San Diego, he would spend Halloween with Amy. When they grew too old to go trick or treating, they started going to their classmates' parties. They would dress in coordinating costumes, share a flask of whatever they could swipe from Amy's parents' liquor cabinet, and fuel the rumors that they were secretly dating by publicly and obnoxiously kissing each other on the mouth. It was like a fun, private joke for them that they performed at pretty much every party that they went to. 

There was that one time though. Freshman year, at a party that John Cline had thrown. Billy had left Amy with a group of her girlfriends in the basement, where the main party action was, and followed John's older brother Rob upstairs to his room to check out his music collection. By the time Amy had wandered upstairs and found him, Rob's tongue was halfway down his throat. Amy didn't speak to Billy for a week and when she finally broke the silence, she didn't acknowledge what she had walked in on, and the two had tacitly agreed to pretend it never happened. 

There was a boy in the year above him who seemed to be taking an interest in him. Tommy Hagan. They were in the same math class and Billy, desperate to make friends and not be a social outcast for the next two years, was nice enough to not even make the slightest joke about how Tommy evidently needed to repeat Algebra II. Tommy was loud and obnoxious—everything Billy had been back in San Diego but was holding back here. 

"I'll get you outta your shell, Hargrove," Tommy liked to say to him with a conspiratorial wink. 

"You're going to Tina's party tonight, right?" he asked now.

"Yeah, I guess," Billy shrugged nonchalantly. They were smoking under the bleachers during their lunch period. Tommy's girlfriend, Carol, was with them. She kind of reminded him of Amy—they had the same crass sense of humor and way of styling their hair. 

"As if you had other plans," Carol teased. 

"I dunno," Billy said around his cigarette. "Your mom might be lonely tonight, Carol. Maybe I'll stop by and keep her company." 

Tommy snorted. "As if Carol's dad would ever let you in the house."

"Aw, I'm sure I could convince Carol's dad to let me in," Billy said in what he hoped was a funny-sleazy tone instead of weird-sleazy. 

Tommy and Carol looked shocked for a moment and didn't respond. _Shit._

"So is this gonna be a BYOB thing or what?" Billy asked, quickly changing the subject, praying that Tommy and Carol understood that it was just a _joke_ just a stupid _joke_.

"There'll be a keg there," Tommy said. 

* * *

"Are you bummed out you're too old to go trick or treating?" Max asked him when they got in the car. 

"Not at all," Billy said. "Are _you_ bummed out you're too young to go to Tina's Halloween party?"

Max wrinkled her nose as she looked over the flyer Billy handed to her. 

"Not even a little bit," she said. "It's just gonna be stupid high schoolers getting drunk and making out."

"Just wait, Max," Billy grinned. "In another year, _you're_ gonna be a stupid high schooler who just wants to get drunk and make out."

"Nuh uh."

"Yeah huh."

"These guys in my class invited me to go with them tonight."

"Yeah?" Billy said. "That's cool. You're friends with them?"

"I guess," Max shrugged. "They're pretty nerdy and kinda weird, but they seem nice enough."

"I mean," Billy said. "You're pretty nerdy, too."

"Ha ha," she drawled. "Hey, can you do me a favor?"

"Depends on what the favor is."

Out of the corner of his eye, Billy saw Max bite her lip. 

"Don't tell Mom I'm trick or treating with just guys tonight?" 

The request wasn't out of the blue. Susan had been fretting that Max wasn't making any girl friends for as long as Billy had known them, since they lived in San Diego. She was _so concerned_ that all of Max's friends were boys. Billy totally understood Max's frustration with her mother. After all, there was a reason he let his Dad and Susan think that he and Amy were more than friends. It was bizarre to Billy that so many people couldn't comprehend that guys and girls could just be friends, without any funny business. Sure, he and Amy had kissed a bunch, but that was purely performative and _just a joke_ between the two of them. 

"I have better things to talk about than you and your friends," he said. 

"Cool," Max said. "Thanks."

* * *

"Told you there'd be a keg here!" Tommy yelled over the music. He was dressed like the antagonist from _Karate Kid_ —Billy had taken Max to see it, like, four times because she had a thing for Ralph Macchio. Billy got it, but he obviously couldn't, like, _bond_ with his kid stepsister about being into the same kind of guy. So instead he teased her mercilessly about her celebrity crush until she stopped begging him to take her to the movies. 

"You wanna make your mark here, right?" Tommy said, leading him to the keg. "Hawkins High record is forty seconds. Think you can beat that, Hargrove?"

"Definitely," Billy grinned. 

"You've done a keg stand before, haven't you?" Tommy sneered at him. 

"Obviously," Billy said, giving him a playful shove. It was technically true. But the longest keg stand that Billy had ever done was thirty seconds. But really, what was the difference between chugging beer upside down for thirty seconds and maybe forty-one seconds to beat a record?

Before he knew it, He was being held above the keg, chugging like his life depended on it while Tommy and some of the other guys Tommy was friends with surrounded him and chanted his name, egging him on. 

He made it to forty-two seconds. 

"That's how you do it, Hawkins!" he yelled ridiculously. Tommy clapped him on the back and handed him a cigarette before they headed into Tina's house. Billy's high from breaking the keg stand record and winning Tommy's respect almost drowned out the gross, nauseous feeling that came with doing a forty-two-second fucking keg stand. 

"Want you to meet someone," Tommy said into his ear. His breath reeked. 

"King Steve!" Tommy crowed, again in Billy's ear. He cringed and hoped Tommy didn't see it. And then, Billy saw "King Steve." He was fucking gorgeous in that sweet and soft way. All big brown eyes, nice build, expertly styled hair, and posture that just exuded the kind of innate confidence that Billy had to constantly fake. And his arm was around Nancy Wheeler's waist. 

"Hey, Billy," Nancy gave him a small smile over her red plastic cup. Her eyes were glassy and she looked a bit faded. She kept glancing over at Tommy, and Billy got the weird feeling that he had just fucked up a potential friendship with her by hanging around this douchebag. 

"Hey, Nancy," Billy returned the smile. 

"Hargrove just broke your record, Harrington," Tommy smirked, as if he was boasting about Billy's keg stand time for him. Billy wished he would just stop. "Hawkins just got a new Keg King."

Harrington just raised an eyebrow and took a sip of whatever he was drinking, utterly unimpressed. Too cool for this childish bullshit. Billy wished he could ditch Tommy, but he was pretty sure that would spell social suicide. 

* * *

An hour later, Billy was outside again, leaning against the side of the house, smoking a cigarette. It was getting close to his curfew and Tommy had fucked off somewhere with Carol. Normally, Billy wouldn't care, but Tommy was his ride tonight. He was at the point where his plan was to just ask a random person for a ride and hope that they wouldn't peg him as a pathetic, friendless loser. But then, the side door swung open, Steve Harrington stormed out, and Billy's entire world changed.

"Hey," Harrington said when he saw him. He pointed to Billy's cigarette. "Can I bum one of those?"

"Yeah, yeah," Billy said. He handed Harrington the pack and wondered if he should light it for him. Luckily, Harrington produced a Zippo from his pocket and lit his own smoke. 

"Thanks," he mumbled around the smoke. The two smoked in silence for a moment. Billy found himself staring at Harrington's lips around the filter and how he held the cig in between two long fingers. 

"Fun party, huh?" Billy finally said. 

"My girlfriend just told me that she's not in love with me and that I'm bullshit."

 _My girlfriend_. He meant Nancy. 

"Shit. Sorry, man."

Harrington shrugged. 

They finished their cigarettes in silence.

"I think I'm gonna call it a night."

"Do you smoke pot?" Billy blurted out. The corners of Harrington's mouth quirked up. 

"Yeah," he said. "You have some?"

Billy pulled the joint that he brought with him out of his jacket pocket. Harrington's smile widened and he pulled his Zippo out again. 

"You brought it," Harrington said. "You start it off."

Billy put the joint to his lips. Harrington lit it for him. Billy's stomach flipped. _Be cool, dipshit, he's just lighting your joint._

"You're new here, right?" 

"Yeah," Billy nodded. He passed the joint. 

"Where are you from?"

"San Diego. California."

"Long way from home."

Billy nodded silently and took a hit. 

"Why'd your folks move you out here?"

"My dad didn't like my stepmom's ex, my stepmom has family in Indianapolis, a bunch of shit happened in San Diego and blah blah blah, now I'm here."

"'Blah blah blah' now you're here," Harrington laughed. 

"Why'd Nancy say you were bullshit?" As soon as Billy said it, he wanted to take it back. Harrington sighed and took a big hit.

"A bunch of shit happened last year," he finally said. "And blah blah blah, now I'm bullshit."

Harrington passed the joint to Billy. Their fingers grazed. 

"You waiting for Tommy?"

"I think he ditched me," Billy said, laughing a little, feeling light from the pot.

"Yeah, he tends to do that," Harrington chuckled. "You need a ride home?"

"You offering?"

Harrington laughed out loud. 

"Come on, Hargrove."

He led Billy to a BMW and the two got in. Harrington's car was clean and tidy. It even smelled fresh. 

"Wait," Billy said suddenly as he started the car. "Shouldn't we get Nancy?"

"No," Harrington said shortly. "Jonathon Byers took her home already."

"They're friends, right?"

"Yeah," he said tightly. "They're friends."

The energy shifted. Harrington drove in silence, turning where Billy directed him to turn. Billy was distantly aware that he was leading Harrington to his working class neighborhood, and Harrington was definitely not from a working class background. He seemed cool enough to not care about a class divide, but you never knew. 

"Who are you dressed as, anyway?" Billy asked. 

"Tom Cruise," Harrington answered. "His character from _Risky Business._ "

"Oh. I haven't seen it."

"You haven't?" Harrington looked over at him, flabbergasted. 

"I'm not too much of a Tom Cruise fan to be honest."

"Breakin' my heart, here, California!"

"There's just something _off_ about him, okay?"

Harrington laughed out loud.

"Seriously!" Billy laughed. "Look, I saw _All The Right Moves_ and _The Outsiders_ and, I don't know, I just feel like in twenty years, there's gonna be some huge story about how he's, I dunno, a cult leader or something."

" _A cult leader or something_ ," Harrington cracked up. "You're fuckin' hilarious, you know that?"

Billy turned his face toward his own window. His smile was so big it hurt his cheeks. This car ride home from a shitty party with Steve Harrington was the most fun he'd had in a month. He was almost tempted to direct him around the block a few times just to spend more time with him.

"This is me," Billy said, pointing out his house. Steve parked the car. "Thanks for the ride."

"Thanks for the smokes," Harrington smiled. They looked at each other for a moment, like they were both tempted to say something else. 

"See you tomorrow, Harrington."

"It's Steve," Steve corrected with a smile. 

"See you tomorrow, Steve."

"See you tomorrow, Billy."

When Billy walked in the door, he realized that Harrington— _Steve_ —had waited until he opened the door before driving off. He took his shoes off and padded to his room. Max's door was open and her light was on. Her room was right next to his. Their parent's master bedroom was down the hall.

"How was the party?" She softly called out. Billy stopped by her room and leaned against the door. Max was in her pajamas and reading a comic book. She had dumped her Halloween candy out on her floor. 

"It was fine," Billy shrugged. "How was trick or treating?"

"It was fine," she echoed with a shrug of her own. "You know that rich neighborhood, Loch Nora? They give out full-size bars there."

"Nice."

"Yeah." Max got up, grabbed a Butterfinger bar from her haul, and handed it to Billy. 

"Thanks," Billy said, smiling a little and hanging around for a second. 

"So," Max said, her voice lilting mischievously. "The party was just fine, huh?"

"Goodnight, Maxine," he snorted as he headed towards his own room. 

"Goodnight, William," came her taunting reply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: 
> 
> Chapter title: "Maybe it's a coyote."
> 
> Summary: Damaging rumors about Billy spread through Hawkins High.


	3. "Maybe it's a coyote"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> November 1st, 1984 wasn't the worst day of Billy's life, but it was a close contender for the title. 
> 
> Content Warnings: Homophobia, bullying, child abuse, racism (Neil says the N word), misogyny... and a demodog (at the end).

Billy should have known that his day was going to be shit when his dad barged in on him getting dressed for school. It's not that it never happened before; it was one of those things that tended to happen when you had a parent who had no respect for your basic privacy and thus never knocked on your bedroom door. When Billy was a kid, it was annoying (sometimes terrifying depending on his dad's mood), but not a big deal in the grand scheme of things. But he was sixteen now and almost an adult and so now having his dad just _come into_ his bedroom felt like more of a violation. Billy's attitude towards this shifted a year or so ago when he started having sex. He was paranoid that his dad would walk in on him changing and see... _something_. A hickey, a bruise that he didn't cause, some devil's mark that would alert his father that he had been fooling around with other guys.

Anyway. Neil swung his bedroom door open when he was only in a pair of briefs and bending over to grab a pair of jeans from his dresser. 

"Dad, Jesus Christ!" Billy shot up and spun around to face the intrusion. 

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain," his dad scolded automatically. 

Billy mumbled a _sorry, sir_ and scrambled to pull his jeans on. 

"Susan and I had an interesting discussion with Mrs. Larkin from down the street," Neil's eyes bored into Billy. "She let us know that she saw Maxine walking around with a group of boys last night."

"Okay?" Billy said. "What about it?"

Neil took a few steps closer to him and suddenly Billy felt like he was twelve years old again and his dad was grilling him about the missing cigarettes from his pack.

"Maxine is your responsibility," he said evenly. "It's your responsibility to make sure she doesn't become a little slut."

"Oh my God, she was trick or treating with her friends, it's not like she—"

Whatever vulgar thing Billy was about to say died in his throat as Neil closed the gap between them and punched him in the stomach. Billy doubled over, gasping for breath. Neil crowded him against the wall. 

"What was that?" Neil said dangerously softly. 

"I said I'll look out for Maxine, sir," Billy wheezed. 

"You keep her away from that nigger kid, too," Neil hissed before finally backing off and leaving Billy to collect himself and finish getting dressed.

* * *

Billy made the basketball team. The list was posted outside the gym first thing in the morning and there was Billy's name, right after Tommy Hagan's and right before Steve Harrington's. Tommy was checking the list when Billy was. 

"Hey, looks like we both made it," Billy said offering a grin. 

"I was on the team since I was a sophomore, so it was pretty much a given," Tommy said shortly, not making eye contact with Billy. _Okay?_

"Practice starts Monday, right?" Billy said. 

"Yeah, listen, man," Tommy turned to face him. "Do you think it's a good idea for you to be on the team?"

"What do you mean?" Billy frowned. 

"It means," Tommy crossed her arms over his chest and stared him down. "You're gonna be around a bunch of half-naked guys on the court and a bunch of full-naked guys in the shower and I'm pretty fuckin' sure you're a queer."

" _What_? Why would you think that?" Billy clenched his fists to keep his hands from shaking.

"Well let's see," Tommy said. "There's the clothes you wear, you have your ear pierced, and you know, maybe it's just a California thing. But then you said that weird thing about _Carol's dad_ and last night at Tina's party you weren't really dancing with any of the girls there. And now you're excited to be on the basketball team? Kinda adds up."

"Tommy, it was a _joke,"_ Billy insisted. His voice was shaking. "Like...like a _your mom_ joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Yeah, but thing is, it wasn't really about her mom, was it? Carol thinks you're a queer too and she's pretty spot on about these things."

The first bell rang. Tommy started to walk away. On impulse, Billy grabbed him, just to tell him that he was full of shit, just to lie to his face to, what? Save face? But Billy shot his arm out too low and ended up grabbing Tommy's hand instead of his arm. 

"Get off me, you fag," Tommy said, jerking his hand away. He said it too loudly; the accusation got the attention of more than a few students passing them in the hall. 

* * *

Nancy wasn't in English class. He thought he caught one of his other classmates, Nicole Madden, staring at him. And then, in the minutes between first and second period, Billy caught other students staring at him and worse, whispering to each other while staring at him. 

"Hey." Someone behind him hissed and shook his seat during Spanish class. Billy turned around to stare down Mark Walsh, putting on a tough face. Walsh had on a shit-eating grin. 

"What."

"Is it true you tried to grab Tommy Hagan's ass this morning?"

Billy's heart pounded in his ears. 

"No," Billy spat. "As if I'd ever want to go near Tommy Hagan's ass."

"That's not what he and Carol are saying," Walsh smirked. 

Billy skipped rest of his classes that day. He planted himself in a far corner of the library and tried to concentrate on his book. When he finished it, he scribbled a short story in his notebook about a boy who gets abducted by aliens, realizes that he likes the alien planet better than Earth, and decides to stay. 

He wondered if the rumors about him had reached Steve yet. He wondered if Steve had heard all about how he was a queer ass-grabber. Billy tasted metal. He stood up on shaky legs and made it to the lavatory seconds before he threw up. 

In San Diego, Billy had a massive crush on a boy two years above him named Chris Phelps. Chris had long, bleach blond hair and wore this shark-tooth necklace and black leather motorcycle jacket. The jacket wasn't just for style either; the guy actually rode a motorcycle. He was tall and muscular and worked in a record shop. He introduced Billy to Bad Religion and Megadeth and smiled this beautifully crooked smile whenever Billy came into the shop and asked if there was anything decent and new in stock. Chris even let Billy ride on his bike with him a few times. Billy would sit in the back behind Chris, who would tell him to _hold on tight, kiddo_ so Billy would take that as permission to loop his arms around Chris' waist and maybe press his face into his shoulder and the back of his neck just a little bit.

Billy kissed him. Once. A week before he and his family finished packing up their house and planning their road trip route to Hawkins. Chris had just taken Billy for a ride on his bike up and down Mission Beach and was dropping him off at his house. His dad's truck wasn't there. So. Billy threw caution to the wind and kissed him. Just a small peck on the lips. When Billy pulled back, Chris gave him that crooked smile. _You're so cute_ , he said before hopping back on his bike and leaving Billy in the dust. He didn't go into his house right away. He walked over to Amy's and breathlessly told her _I kissed Chris, holy shit, I just kissed Chris Phelps and he told me I was cute._

He couldn't remember how Amy had reacted. She was the only person in the entire world who knew that Billy liked Chris. The only person who knew that Billy was gay. He couldn't remember Amy's response to his admission that he just _kissed Chris, Ames, holy shit, he thinks I'm cute_. But he did remember the sickening drop in his stomach he felt that night when it hit him that Chris telling him _you're so cute_ was actually just Chris letting him down gently and it didn't matter either way because Billy was about to move to the opposite side of the country.

* * *

"Can you drive me to the arcade?" Max asked as a greeting as soon as she got in the car. 

"Whatever," Billy answered. He already had his sunglasses on. He wondered if he was going to get written up for only showing up to two of his classes. or if that was the kind of thing that would get him kicked off the basketball team before he even started. He wasn't sure if he cared. 

He told Max she had an hour to burn before they had to go home. There was a pay phone right outside the arcade. After Max walked in, Billy practically launched himself out of the Camaro with a pocketful of change. He punched in the number for the phone set up in Amy's bedroom. Amy was the only person he knew who had her own phone line. After slipping all of his coins into the slot to connect to San Diego and hearing the connecting tone for what felt like forever, it dawned on him that California was three hours behind Indiana and that Amy was probably still at school and that Billy had just wasted three dollars because he felt like he was about to fall apart and just needed to hear her voice. 

"Hello?" 

Billy practically jumped at her voice. 

"Hey," he said. "It's Billy."

"Holy shit," Amy's voice crackled through. "Hey."

"Were you too hungover to go to school today?" 

Billy felt his eyes tingle when he heard Amy cackle from a million miles away. 

"How's Indiana?"

"It sucks. Obviously." Billy's voice broke, just a little bit. Maybe he shouldn't have made this call out in the open in broad daylight. He felt exposed. He held the arm that wasn't holding the phone against his stomach. 

"How are things with you?"

After quickly remembering to tell her his new phone number, he listened to Amy rattle off about their school, their classmates, who got expelled, who got knocked up, the Halloween party on the beach she went to...

"So who'd you spend Halloween with this year?" Billy asked. There was a pause. For a second Billy though the call had dropped. But then Amy's voice came back through. 

"Um," she said. "I went to the party with Chris."

Billy stood up straighter. He licked his lips. 

"Chris who?" he asked, even though he knew the answer. "Which Chris?"

"You know which Chris," Amy sighed. "Chris Phelps. We've actually been...dating. Each other. So is everyone there a total hick or—"

"Are you serious, Amy?" Billy cut her off. "You're—what— _dating_ Chris now? You're fucking dating him? Are you fucking kidding me?"

A woman holding a toddler's hand walked passed him and glared. Billy was about to tell her to fuck off when Amy spoke again.

"Look, Billy, it just kind of _happened_ , okay?"

"Right, sure, it just happened that as soon I move to the middle of nowhere you swoop in and start dating the guy I—"

" _He_ asked _me_ out, actually."

"It doesn't matter," Billy said. His mouth was dry. His throat felt like it was closing up. "You still said yes. You're still dating him. You—you _bitch_ , Amy, what the fuck?"

"Billy, did you honestly think you had a shot with him?" Amy yelled. "Dude, he's not gay, okay? He was never going to be your boyfriend!"

Billy fell silent for a minute. His head was spinning. He felt like he was going to throw up again; he pushed the feeling down. 

"Yeah, but," Billy took a shaky breath. " _You were my best friend_."

Amy said something else. Billy couldn't hear it. He hung up. His hands were shaking. He curled them into fists. They still shook. His eyes were stinging. He heard his father's voice in his head: _What, did you think was going to happen, you stupid faggot, no one gives a shit about you, you pathetic fucking fairy-boy, what, you gonna cry now, you pussy, only pussies cry, only faggy little bitch boys without any friends cry._ Billy slammed the side of his right fist against the brick wall of the arcade. He found sick pleasure in the resulting pain that shot up his arm. He needed to get out of there. He needed to go home and go to his room and scream into a pillow and pray that his fucking dad didn't walk in.

He needed to get Max. He stormed in and found her immediately by the Dig Dug machine. Surrounded by four boys. Including the black kid that Mrs. Larkin had apparently seen her with last night. The arcade only had a few adults, but it only took one to casually mention that they saw Max hanging around these boys for the information to make its way to Neil Hargrove. The Hawkins rumor mill was relentless. It hit Billy that the rumors going around about him at school might leak off campus. His dad was totally going to hear about this. And his dad was probably going to kill him when he did. 

"Max," Billy said loudly, walking toward her. "Come on, we gotta go."

"You said I had an hour," Max complained. "It's been like ten minutes."

"I don't give a shit if it's been five," Billy snapped. "We need to go home. Get in the car."

"Max, if you want, I can just give you a ride..." Billy looked up as the black kid spoke up. Perfect, just fucking perfect. 

"No one was talking to you, kid," Billy cut him off. Max looked at him in disbelief. 

"It's fine," Max gathered her things in her arms. "I'll see you guys at school tomorrow."

She pushed past Billy and stomped out the door. As soon as they were in the car, Max laid into him. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded. 

"You know, if you're gonna hang out with only boys, just do me a favor and don't be so open about it," Billy ground out as he sped home. "You know how people in this town are, and I'd rather not have Dad beat my ass when they start spreading rumors that you're a skank."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"Do I look like I'm fucking kidding you?!"

"Why are you being such an asshole?"

"Because you're being an idiot!"

"Oh really, I'm being an idiot? I thought I was being a skank!"

"No, you're not being a skank, Max! You're being an idiot because you don't realize that people are going to _think_ you're a skank!"

"You're such a dick!"

"You're a bitch!"

"Asswipe!"

"Dipshit!"

* * *

When they got to the house, they simultaneously slammed their doors shut, stomped inside, and slammed their bedroom doors. Max immediately turned on her boombox and started blasting The Runaways. In turn, Billy turned his own rock box on and started blasting Metallica. He paced around the small space of his bedroom, chest heaving, willing himself not to cry. Not being able to stop the tears from building up and falling down his face. 

His door swung open. His head swiveled towards it as he yelled at whoever was opening it. That sick part of him hoped it was his dad. He inexplicably wanted his dad to beat the shit out of him. 

_"WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"_ he screamed. 

It was Susan. She stared at him, the absolute shock of being screamed at by her sixteen year old stepson who was clearly having some sort of breakdown evident on her face. 

She regained her composure. Some of it, anyway. 

"Turn the music off," she ordered. Billy pulled the plug out of the wall. Once his music stopped, he could hear that Max had turned hers off too. Susan had likely just been in Max's room. Billy hadn't realized that Susan was home. The silence hung heavily in the room, surrounding Billy and Susan. Billy furiously wiped the tears from his face, realizing it was pointless because Susan had already seen them.

"What's going on?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

"Nothing," he mumbled, looking away from her. 

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," she said gently. 

"I don't want to talk about it."

Susan nodded and didn't press any further. He was tearing up again and sniffling _fucking pussy_. Susan took a hesitant step forward, uncrossing her arms, and partially extending one towards him, like she was going to...what? Hug him? Rub his back and tell him everything was going to be okay? Billy was torn between wanting to let her do _whatever_ it was that she had in mind and wanting to run, just bolt out the door. But he also knew that the second Susan touched him, he would completely fall apart and start sobbing and probably say something that he couldn't take back and the prospect of _that_ was just...

"I'm fine," Billy said tightly, crossing his arms and turning away slightly. 

Susan nodded again. 

"Your dad and I are going out for dinner tonight," she said. Thursday was their date night. "There's leftover lasagna in the fridge for you and Max."

"Okay."

"I'll leave the phone number for the restaurant on the counter in case you guys need to reach us."

"Okay."

"Your dad will be home soon," she said. "Try to keep the noise down, okay?"

_Try not to look so much like a crybaby pussy, Billy._

"Okay," Billy nodded. An apology for yelling at her was on the tip of his tongue. Susan left the room before he could say it. 

* * *

He and Max kept their distance for most of the night. They didn't even eat dinner together; they microwaved their own plates and sat apart (Billy at the table and Max perched on one of the stools at the kitchen's peninsula counter) before Billy retreated to his room to read and Max turned the TV on in the living room. Billy figured that they would just take the night to cool off and then things wouldn't be so hostile in the morning. That's how it usually went whenever they had a fight like this. Logically, he knew that it wasn't Max's fault that Neil hit him that morning. But the childish part of him couldn't help but be annoyed at her for not already knowing that hanging out with only boys was probably a bad idea, or _knowing_ that but still doing it anyway. He was totally fine with not having to talk to, or even look at Max, for the rest of the night.

But then, Max swung open his bedroom door, red hair in her face, looking freaked out. And Billy couldn't help but feel that bubble of earlier rage simmer just below the surface. 

"What the fuck, Maxine?" he snarled. "You ever hear of knocking?"

"There's something in the bushes," she said in a rush. 

Billy raised his eyebrows and gave her a gesture that could clearly be read as _so fucking what_?

"Outside," she said. "There's something in the bushes outside. It looks big."

"It's probably a raccoon or something," Billy rolled his eyes.

"I don't think so," she said, shaking her head. "I saw it for a second. It wasn't a raccoon."

"Well, what was it then?"

"I don't know!"

"Okay you know what," he said. He turned his boom box on. "Go outside and check it out and then let me know what it is. Okay?"

Max didn't move. She just stood in his doorway staring at him like she was expecting him to do something and wouldn't leave him alone until he did. Billy groaned, got up from his bed, and threw his book down. 

"Swear to God, Max," he grumbled, shoving past her. She trailed after him as he made his way to the sliding glass door to the backyard. The bushes outside were definitely moving, rustling around like some animal was pacing or burrowing in or something. Billy watched the action from behind the glass, Max by his side. 

"It's probably a raccoon," Billy said.

"Maybe it's a coyote."

"Maybe it's a monster," Billy mocked. He expected to see Max roll her eyes through the glass' reflection. Instead he saw her bite her lip. _Stop being such an asshole_ , he berated himself. 

He reached for the door handle. 

"What are you doing?" Max asked. 

"What does it look like?"

He stepped outside, steeled himself and walked towards the bushes, ignoring the grip of fear in his gut. Max started to step out too. 

"Stay in the house," Billy found himself saying. Max was so freaked out that she actually listened. Good. The last thing he needed was to have to pull a fucking coyote off of his dumbass little sister. 

The rustling stopped as soon as Billy got closer. The bushes stood still. There was silence. The hair on the back of Billy's neck stood up. He ignored the instinct to run and turned his back to the bushes, gesturing with his arms spread wide. 

"Your coyote's gone, Max."

The bushes started rustling again. The air shifted. Billy heard a high-pitched chirping behind him. And then a pair of teeth clamped down on his right arm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up:
> 
> Chapter Title: "It was a coyote."
> 
> Summary: An attack from a horrifying creature leads to an ER visit.


	4. "It was a coyote."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy fights off a baby demodog and learns two things: rabies shots are awful and he's not as suicidal as he once thought.
> 
> Content warnings: a demodog attack, talks of suicidal ideation, blood, medical procedures (specifically a rabies vaccination), reference to child abuse, implied racism

Everything happened so fast.

One minute, Billy was making fun of Max and the next, he was fighting off a creature that looked like the demonic brain-spawn of Stephen King and H.P. Lovecraft. 

The creature wasn't big—maybe a little bit bigger than a house cat—but it was vicious. It latched onto Billy's bare arm with what felt like dozens of sharp teeth and just. Would. Not. Let. Go. 

" _BILLY!!"_ Max screamed from the door. 

Billy curled his left hand into a fist and frantically punched at the thing, trying to find its eyes, its nose, some weak spot. The thing hopped off and backed up, but just for a second. Just long enough that Billy could get a good look at the thing. It wasn't like any animal he'd every seen. Not in real life, not in the movies, not even in National Fucking Geographic. It wasn't a coyote, that was for goddamn sure. It didn't have fur or feathers; maybe some weird combination of skin or scales? It's head though...it looked like a closed flower bud. It didn't have eyes. 

Just when Billy had thought he caught his breath, the creature's face split open. It let out a bone-chilling shriek and lunged at him again. 

Billy threw his injured arm up on instinct. The creature bit down on it again, with so much velocity it knocked him on his ass. _Plant your feet, idiot!_ _Shoulda planted your feet_ he thought.

Billy sometimes had this recurring thought that he had never shared with anyone. Not even Amy. Starting when he was around fourteen or so, he had been indifferent to his own death. He didn't necessarily _want_ to die. He wasn't planning on chasing a bottle of pills with a bottle of liquor. He didn't want to drive his car off a cliff. He wasn't going to slit his wrists in a warm bath. But the thought was that...like...if some crackhead pulled a knife on him, Billy wasn't so sure that he would fight back. Or at least, he wouldn't fight very hard. 

But now, face-to-face with this faceless hell creature, with his kid sister screaming his name from six feet away, Billy was hit with startling realization that not only did he _not want to die,_ he wanted to fucking survive. He was belly-up but he put a hundred-and-ten percent into fighting this thing off of him. He wasn't just punching at this point; he was scratching and screaming and even kicking at it from such a vulnerable angle. Finally, by some divine fucking miracle, the thing just...let go of his arm with another shriek and darted back into the bushes. 

With a surge of adrenaline, Billy shot himself upright and launched himself inside, with Max slamming the door shut after him. He stood where he was, stock still, dripping blood on the living room carpet.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," she was saying over and over again. She opened a kitchen drawer with so much intensity that the drawer actually flew out of the slot, landing on the linoleum floor with a _crack._

"Watch your feet," Billy said in a vague tone. He felt totally and completely numb, like he wasn't in his body, just watching himself and Max from the other side of the room. His arm didn't even hurt. But his entire body was shaking like a leaf. And he was cold. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug. Max practically tripped over her own feet when she got to him, haphazardly wrapping his bloody and bleeding arm in a dish towel.

"We have to get you to the hospital," she said. When he didn't respond, she snapped her fingers in front of his face. He blinked. " _Billy!_ "

He suddenly grabbed her hard by the shoulders and leaned down to look her in the eye.

"Are you okay?!" he asked loudly. Urgently. Like it was Max who was injured instead of himself. Billy's pupils were huge, like how they got whenever he was stoned. Max couldn't conceal the absolute terror she felt. But she knew she had to take charge here. 

"Billy," she said, switching to a calm and controlled tone, "You're the one who's bleeding. We have to go to the hospital, okay?"

"Right," Billy nodded slowly. "I'll grab my keys..."

" _No you fucking won't!!_ " Max yelled. 

* * *

Lynn Kirsch heard her new neighbors more often than she saw them.

She met them when they first moved into the house next door. The Hargroves. Neil and Susan, and their two children, William and Maxine (although, when she heard them, the nicknames Billy and Max were used most often). They were a good-looking family and seemed nice enough.

The second time she met the father, Neil, he had volunteered his son to help her out with whatever needed to be done around her house: yard work, car maintenance, heavy lifting. She'd only needed Billy's services once so far, to mow her lawn. He was a handsome young man. Curly blonde hair that he had cut into some new rock and roll style (although, she was sure he would grow out of that soon). Not overly tall, but muscled and toned. He spoke in an easygoing, playful, almost flirtatious way, even though he called her _ma'am_. 

If she was forty years younger, she'd probably be all over him. But alas, Billy was still in high school. She wouldn't even be able to justify setting him up with her daughter Jennifer—she was finishing up a degree at Barnard and applying to medical schools. 

The Hargroves seemed like a nice, standard-issue family and Lynn was friendly enough with them after a month of them living next door. They were loud though. The kids played loud music. They sometimes yelled at each other, from within the house, from the backyard, from the driveway.

In the month that the Hargroves lived next door, Lynn had heard Neil yell at the kids maybe eight times. Their houses were close enough that she could hear most of his yelling was directed at Billy. Each time she heard Neil Hargrove yell at his son, it was accompanied by thudding noises. Like the sound of a body hitting furniture. After the thudding noises stopped, the Hargrove house would become dead silent. 

It wasn't any of Lynn's business. She was fifty-five years old. She had a daughter who was newly married and pregnant, another daughter who was about to become a doctor, and a husband who was preparing for retirement. The last thing she wanted to do was stick her nose into someone else's family. If Neil Hargrove hit his son to keep him in line, that was just not her problem. 

But Lynn wasn't heartless. That night, moments after she heard the Hargrove kids screaming, little Maxine pounded on her door, her big brother in tow with a blood-soaked dish rag wrapped around his arm, begging for a ride to the hospital. So, naturally, Lynn bent her rule about getting involved with other people's children. 

* * *

The pain didn't hit Billy until he was in the Emergency Room of Hawkins General and seated on an examination bed while a nurse cleaned the bite wounds on his arm. She introduced herself as Kathleen and told Billy that he was in shock right before hooking him up to a saline IV. As the minutes passed, Billy felt like he was fully back in his body—of course, that also meant that he felt everything Nurse Kathleen was doing to his arm. He couldn't help but flinch. 

"Almost done," she said. "Looks like the shock is wearing off, so that's good. How are you feeling?"

Billy shrugged with his left shoulder. Max was on a chair next to him, watching Nurse Kathleen work. Now that all of the blood was washed away, it didn't look as awful. 

"Does your arm hurt?" Billy nodded. "There are a lot of puncture wounds here, but it doesn't look like there's any muscle damage. You probably won't need stitches, but the doctor can let you know for sure. Now you said that an _animal_ bit you?"

"It was a coyote," Billy said. 

"That must have been quite scary," Kathleen empathized. She finished wiping down his arm. Billy became acutely aware that she was now checking out the fading bruise around his wrist. "Oh, what happened here?"

_Oh, you know, I mouthed off to my dad last week so he grabbed me and pushed me into bookshelf. Typical Tuesday._

"Huh, you know, I don't actually remember," Billy said lightly. "Might've just knocked it against a shelf or something."

"Okay," Kathleen nodded. "I'm just going to go let a doctor know you're ready to be looked at."

She left the cubicle and closed the divider curtain. Max immediately turned to Billy. 

"That wasn't a coyote," she whispered. 

"Yeah, no shit," Billy whispered back. 

"How's your arm?"

"Fuckin' hurts."

The curtain was pulled back and in walked a doctor. 

"Hi, guys," he said. His tone was pleasant. "I'm Doctor Sinclair. Billy, I understand you were bitten by a coyote?"

"Yes."

"Well, let's have a look," he sat down in front of Billy and started examining the wounds. Billy tried not to flinch away. Failed. 

"We can get you some Tylenol in a moment," Doctor Sinclair said. "You're not right-handed by any chance, are you?"

"No, I'm left-handed."

"Well, hey, that's a silver lining!"

"Are you Lucas Sinclair's dad?" Max asked suddenly. 

"I am," he smiled. 

"He's in my class," Max said. "My name is Max."

"Nice to meet you, Max. Lucas'll have to have you come by some time."

He finished checking out Billy's arm. 

"Okay," he said with a smile. "Good news is that you're only going to need a few stitches. Bad news is that you're going to need to have a series of rabies shots. Which will consist of thirteen shots injected into your stomach over thirteen days."

Billy blinked and nodded, processing that. 

"Right, okay," he said slowly. "And if I don't get the shots?"

"Son, have you read _Cujo_?"

Billy barked out a hollow laugh. 

"Do you want the shot first or the stitches?" Doctor Sinclair asked. 

"Shot, I guess."

Doctor Sinclair stepped out. When he stepped back in with a medical tray, he was accompanied by a male nurse who was built like a linebacker. 

"This is Rick. He's going to help you hold still," Doctor Sinclair said. "Going to need you to lie back for me and lift your shirt up."

Billy hesitated. He wasn't usually one to be shy about showing his body. He looked good; he knew he did. And he worked hard to achieve the physique he had. But his dad had punched him in the stomach that morning and the bruise was fresh. If Nurse Kathleen noticed an almost-faded bruise on his wrist, Doctor Sinclair would definitely notice this one. 

He pulled his shirt up and laid back on the exam bed. He stole a glance at Max. Her eyes were darting back and forth between him and Rick, who was moving to the head of the exam table. Rick placed two large hands on Billy's shoulders and pressed down lightly. Billy jerked away. He felt his IV shift in his arm.

"The fuck?" Billy snarled. 

"Trust me," Rick said. "You're gonna need help holding still for this."

Max narrowed her eyes. Did this oversized hick nurse really think that Billy wasn't going to be able to handle a little shot? Max had seen him get into some pretty intense fights with guys back in San Diego. Some real knock-down, drag-out fist fights. Trust her: Billy could take a hit and keep swinging. And yeah, maybe he never hit Neil back, but that was completely different. Her brother wasn't some crybaby little kid. 

Then she saw the needle that Doctor Sinclair was preparing. 

"Don't look," she said quickly. Billy being...well, Billy...lifted his head up and looked. His eyes got wide before his head dropped back down. 

"That's quite a bruise you got there," Doctor Sinclair said as he wiped an alcohol pad over Billy's abs. He shivered. "You walk into a table corner?"

"Basketball tryouts." The lie rolled off of Billy's tongue. "Some kid elbowed me."

"Okay, Billy," Doctor Sinclair then said calmly. "You're going to feel a stick and just a _little_ bit of pressure..."

It was not a little bit of pressure. 

Billy squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the bed rails. He could barely stop his legs from jerking. If Rick hadn't been holding him down, he would have probably launched himself from the bed.

"Almost done..."

Billy couldn't stop a strangled whimper from escaping. 

"There! All done!" Doctor Sinclair said. Billy shakily let go of the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He stared at the ceiling and rapidly blinked away tears.

"One down, twelve more to go," Rick said as he let go of Billy's shoulders, giving one a rough pat as he left to grab the suture tray. 

* * *

Neil and Susan arrived at the hospital just as Doctor Sinclair was wrapping up Billy's stitched up arm with a roll of gauze and a nurse was unhooking him from the IV. Billy expected them to fuss over Max and was prepared to just accept that neither his father nor his stepmother gave a shit about him.

He was completely unprepared for what _actually_ happened, which was that when Neil and Susan were directed into their cubicle, they immediately went to Billy's side, acting like...well, acting like they were his parents. 

"God, Billy, are you okay?" Susan asked, her face a mask of worry. 

In all honesty, Susan being concerned about Billy's wellbeing didn't come as much of a surprise. In the four-and-a-half years that she and Neil had been married, Susan had taken her role as Billy's stepmother very seriously. At points, even bordering on "replacement mother" territory. If Billy was being truthful with himself, he didn't hate Susan. Hell, he may have even admitted to liking her. And if Billy was feeling extra introspective, he would have admitted that the only thing that compelled him to keep Susan at arm's length was that he _still_ wasn't over the fact that his _own_ mother abandoned him.

Of course, there was also the lingering and maybe-unreasonable resentment that Susan was unable to stop her husband from beating him. But in all fairness, his own mom couldn't do that either. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," Billy said.

"What happened?" Neil asked. "A coyote bit you?"

"Yeah," Billy nodded. "It was a coyote. In the backyard."

"So, you...what? Saw a coyote in the backyard and decided to play with it?" Neil narrowed his eyes. Not in a totally aggressive way though, Billy noticed. Almost like Neil was genuinely trying to piece together what had happened. 

The last time Billy had gotten hurt badly enough to warrant a trip to the emergency room was back in June, when they were still living in San Diego. Neil had shoved Billy so hard that he had stumbled, fell backwards, and landed in such a way that he snapped his collarbone. Susan and Max weren't home. Billy didn't think he would ever forget the look of absolute horror and shame on his father's face when he realized how badly he fucked up. 

Billy had told the doctor at the hospital that he had been goofing off on a friend's trampoline. 

Neil had left Billy alone for the entire time his arm was in a sling—he didn't even yell at him or call him names the entire time his collarbone was healing. Not only that, but he had matched the amount of money that Billy had been saving up to buy his car so he could get it faster, even though he wasn't even sixteen yet. Neil had even gone with Billy to buy it to make sure the seller wouldn't rip him off. 

"Max saw something in the bushes," Billy said now. "I went out to see what it was."

"For God's sake, Bill," Neil sighed. He put a hand on his shoulder. Kept his hand there as Doctor Sinclair explained the treatment he had administered and told Neil and Susan that Billy would have to come back every day for the next twelve days for post-exposure prophylaxis. 

Neil gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

Billy's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't remember the last time his father had touched him like this. Couldn't remember the last time being touched by his own dad didn't hurt. Hell, Susan didn't touch him very often either, but even she touched him more than Neil did. 

And now, here Neil was, squeezing his shoulder like it was something he regularly _did_. Like the Hargrove household was warm and comforting. Billy couldn't tell if he wanted to jerk away from his dad's hand or lean into it. 

Neil took his hand away to shake Doctor Sinclair's when he told them they could grab Billy's discharge papers and go home. Billy didn't miss the way his dad wiped his hand on his pants after Doctor Sinclair left the cubicle. 

* * *

The ride back home, and the hours after they got there, were quiet. Billy wrapped his arm in saran wrap (per his discharge instructions) so he could take a shower without getting his stitches wet. He felt like he had a layer of dried fear sweat coating his body. He felt gross. He took longer in the shower than he normally did. For once, his dad didn't pound on the door and yell at him for using so much hot water. 

When he got out and was back in his room, he heard a knock on the door. 

"One second," he called out, pulling on a pair of boxers. 

It was Max. She pushed past him as soon as he opened the door. 

"What do you want, shitbird?" he asked, closing the door. 

" _That wasn't a coyote_ ," Max hissed. 

Billy sighed and closed his eyes. Max was really not going to give it a rest, was she?

"Leave me alone, Max."

"Are we _seriously_ not going to talk about this?" Max demanded. 

"Yeah, _we seriously aren't going to talk about this_."

"Why not?!"

"Because I don't want to talk about it!" Billy whisper-yelled. "What happened was fucked up. My _whole day_ has been fucked up and I don't want to think about it and I definitely don't want to talk about it!"

"You can't just pretend it didn't happen!" 

"Watch me!"

"God, you're such a pussy!"

"Fuck off, Maxine. Get the fuck out of my room."

Max didn't move. She planted her feet, crossed her arms, and glared at him. That rage that Billy felt earlier came rushing back up. It was Max's fault that he went outside and was almost killed by that thing. It was Max's fault that he now had to get _thirteen rabies shots in his fucking stomach_ and it was Max's fault that he would probably never sleep well again because he now knew that creatures like the one that attacked him existed. 

Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed Max's arm and started to force her to the door. 

"Get _off_ me!" Max gritted out, wriggling out of his grasp. He grabbed her again, harder. She rammed her elbow into his stomach. He doubled over. 

"Shit," Max said. "I'm sorry—"

" _Just get the hell out of here_ ," Billy gasped. 

She did. 

Billy shut the door, turned the light off, and stumbled into bed. And then, as soon as he hit the mattress and pulled the sheets up, the weight of the entire day crashed over him. Tommy and Carol turning on him. The rumors spreading around at school. The fact that they were partially true—like, yes, Billy was gay, but that didn't mean he tried to grab Tommy's ass or want to fuck Carol's father. 

The fact that he would probably be forced to drop out of the basketball team. The fact that Steve Harrington would probably never want to talk to him again.

How his dad could punch him in the stomach and then act like a completely different person, act like he loved him, twelve hours later.

The demise of his longest and most meaningful friendship because Amy just _had_ to be a selfish bitch and start dating the one guy he had real feelings for. 

The fact monsters existed. And one had been in his backyard. And had attacked him. And was still out there somewhere in Hawkins. And the fact that there were probably more of them. 

Billy curled up on his side and pulled his sheets and comforter all the way up, to the point where they covered his ears. He was afraid to close his eyes. He was afraid to open them back up. 

He shuddered and clutched at the blankets. There was no way he was sleeping that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up:
> 
> Chapter Title: "It didn't have a face."
> 
> The next day at school, Billy continues to cope with being the target of vicious gossip...and learns that Steve Harrington uses Farrah Fawcett hairspray.


	5. "It didn't have a face."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy finds friendship in three other Hawkins High rumor mill victims—Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers...and Steve Harrington. Later, Steve drives him home and stays awhile. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Max stays after school with her new maybe-friends Lucas, Dustin, Mike, and Will...and finds something eerily familiar about Dustin's "newly discovered species."
> 
> And Billy has a surprising conversation with Susan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We dippin' into Max's POV for a sec, guys! And finally diving into the developing relationship between Billy and Steve. And also featuring a scene between Billy and Susan because...I think that's a relationship worth exploring.
> 
> Content Warnings: Drug use (just marijuana), medical procedures (rabies shot), child abuse, implied sexual assault/implied roofie

Susan didn't want Billy driving the next day. Said it wasn't a good idea while his arm was still wrapped up and told him that she would drive him to the doctor for his second rabies shot after she got home from work that day. The unspoken reason was that it was painfully obvious that Billy hadn't slept at all the night before. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused and had deep, dark shadows underneath them. Billy begrudgingly accepted the temporary driving ban; he was halfway afraid that if he got behind the wheel, he would crash into a telephone poll. And he did _not_ fight off a monster just to kill himself and his stepsister in a car crash. 

So. Billy and Max endured the indignity of taking the bus to school. 

Nancy was in first period English that day. She sat down next to him. Billy wondered if she had heard the rumors about him. But he had this gut feeling that Nancy wasn't the type to participate in gossip like that. 

"Hey," she smiled. 

"Hey," he said back. "You weren't in class yesterday."

Nancy lowered her voice to barely above a whisper, "I was _so_ hungover yesterday. I slept through my alarm and had to sneak out of the house so that my mother wouldn't find out."

"Nice," Billy snorted.

" _You_ weren't in bio," Nancy raised an eyebrow. "Or history. Jonathan told me."

"Yeah," Billy shrugged. "I kind of skipped the last...six periods. Wasn't really feeling it."

Nancy hummed. Her gaze traveled to Billy's arm. 

"Coyote bite," Billy said before Nancy could ask any questions. 

* * *

The next time Billy talked to Nancy that day was right after their fourth period biology class. Their lunch period was next and Nancy was pretty much steering him into the cafeteria, towards the table where Jonathan Byers and Steve Harrington were sitting; Billy had been at Hawkins High for over a month now and he'd sat in the cafeteria maybe twice because of his habit of smoking outside with Tommy and Carol during lunch. Obviously that wasn't an option anymore. 

And it was becoming increasingly apparent that Nancy _had_ heard the rumors about him and was treating him like a charity case. Billy didn't know which was worse: being a total social outcast or being a pathetic charity case. 

And did Nancy and Steve make up? Did they ever _break_ up? Surely Nancy telling Steve that he was bullshit ended their relationship, right? 

"Hey, man!" Steve said, smiling. Had _Steve_ heard the rumors? Probably, right? 

"Hey," Billy said. He and Nancy sat down, Nancy next to Steve and Billy next to Jonathan.

"I never see you around," Steve said. "Where do you usually sit?"

"I usually smoke my lunch," Billy shrugged. 

"Well, you're on basketball team now, so you gotta quit that," Steve laughed.

"Yeah," Billy tried to laugh. "Yeah, I don't know if I'm actually gonna be on the team though."

No one said anything for a moment. 

"Tommy and Carol are assholes," Steve finally said. Nancy and Jonathan both nodded in agreement. "Trust me, I was friends with them for years."

"You were an asshole too, though," Jonathan said wryly. 

"I replaced your camera!" Steve said as Jonathan and Nancy laughed. "What more do you want, Byers?"

Billy could tell it was an inside joke. He found himself wanting more than anything to be part of it. Or to be part of a new inside joke. 

"Seriously though," Steve said, turning his attention to Billy. "Those two are full of shit." 

"Last year, Tommy started a rumor that I killed my little brother," Jonathan offered. _What the fuck?!_ Billy thought.

"And Carol started telling people that I cheated on Steve with Jonathan," Nancy said. Billy couldn't help but notice that Steve looked away a bit when she said that. 

"Point being," Steve said. "They're assholes. Now what the hell happened to your arm?"

"I was bitten by a coyote," Billy said.

"In _Hawkins_?" Jonathan asked. 

Shit—were coyotes not common in Indiana? They sure as hell were in Southern California. Was that why he and Max had to repeat the coyote line (coyote _lie_ ) so many times in the ER last night?

"Yeah," Billy said. What else was he going to say to these three potential new friends? The truth? No, Billy was going to commit to his lie. "My stepsister Max saw something in the backyard, I went to go check it out, and...." Billy trailed off and gestured to his bandaged arm. 

"Is your stepsister Max Mayfield by any chance?" Jonathan asked. Billy nodded. "I think she's friends with my brother Will. Nance, didn't Mike and Will go trick or treating with her?

"I guess," Nancy shrugged. "Mike doesn't tell me anything."

"She told me she went with a group of guys dressed as Ghostbusters," Billy threw in. 

"Yeah, that was them!" Nancy said. 

They shot the shit for the rest of lunch. Billy, Jonathan, Nancy, and Steve. His new friends, Billy guessed. He was more than okay with that. Nancy and Jonathan weren't Cool with a Capital C, but they were smart and funny and seemed kind. Like the type of people Billy could see himself hanging out with on school nights and spending weekends with, getting high, drinking beer, and going on long drives to nowhere. 

Steve on the other hand. Steve used to be the king of Hawkins High. King Steve, they called him. Steve was Cool. Still _was_ cool. Would probably always be cool, no matter who he sat with in the cafeteria or what he did on the weekends or how many people wanted to be him or be _with_ him. He radiated confidence and was obviously comfortable in his own skin. Comfortable enough to not care that his friends had never been on the same social level as he was.

Steve had that pure, unadulterated confidence that translated into coolness and sex appeal. Billy would kill to have that. 

Instead, Billy had abandonment issues, self-destructive habits, and low self-esteem that he somehow managed to hide under loud fashion choices and a body that he worked his ass off for. 

Steve was also just...so handsome. Billy would have to acknowledge that even if he _wasn_ ' _t_ gay. 

Billy couldn't help but be deeply intimidated by him. And also intensely attracted to him. 

He fleetingly wondered if Steve swung both ways or at the very least was curious about hooking up with other guys. 

He watched Steve put his arm around Nancy. Damn.

* * *

The rest of the day dragged on. People were still giving the side-eye and whispering behind his back, but now Billy was able to mostly ignore it. It was Friday; maybe the rumor would die down over the weekend. He had loose plans to study for an upcoming biology test with Nancy. He and Steve were starting basketball practice on Monday. 

He had friends. Crazy.

What was even crazier was that Steve caught up with him at his locker at the end of the day.

"So it occurred to me," Steve said, leaning against Billy's locker with his arms crossed over his chest. "I didn't see your car this morning. You didn't drive here, did you?"

"Wow, nothing gets past you, does it?" Billy said. He grabbed his history and biology textbooks, shut his locker, and turned to face Steve, secretly enjoying the smirk on his face. "My parents didn't want me driving this morning." He held up his injured arm. 

"You want a ride home?" 

"Yeah, totally," Billy said immediately. "Thanks."

They started walking out. The fallen King of Hawkins High and...the California Queer.

"You know, maybe I should carry your books for you," Steve said with a shit-eating grin. "'Cause of your arm."

"Ha ha," Billy said dryly. 

"Should we wait for your sister?" Steve asked as they neared his Beemer. Truth be told, Billy had nearly forgotten about Max. 

"Nah," he said. "She can skate home."

* * *

"So what do you think of Hawkins?" 

They were almost at Billy's house and up until that point, they had been talking about school, Steve had given Billy pointers about getting on their basketball coach's good side, and Billy had told Steve some of the truly idiotic shit Tommy had done during their brief friendship. He made Steve laugh. Steve had a great laugh. 

"I hate it," Billy said without thinking. And then, before Steve could think he was a total asshole, he added: "I mean I don't _hate_ it. It's just not home, you know?"

"I get that," Steve said sympathetically. "Plus, you know, a lot of people at our school are douchebags. But Nancy and Jonathan aren't, and they clearly want to be friends with you."

"What about you?"

"Oh, I can't stand you," Steve teased. "I think you're a massive tool. That's why I'm driving you home."

Billy laughed. 

"Hey so, uh," Billy ventured. "You and Nancy. You guys back together?"

"Uh," Steve said, turning onto Billy's street. "We're not, actually. We talked yesterday, for like, _hours,_ and we both said the things that we needed to say to each other. And we decided that we've been through way too much together to just...not be in each other's lives, you know? So, anyway, Nancy and I are just good friends now. Jonathan, too. And," (Steve was rambling now. Billy was transfixed.) "it's crazy because last year, Jonathan and I _hated_ each other. Like. Look," Steve parked his car in front of Billy's house and turned in his seat to look at him.

"Look," Steve continued. "Up until a year ago, I was a fucking asshole. Like, I was a real piece of shit, you know? And then I started dating Nancy and then...then a ton of crazy, fucked up shit happened to us. All three of us, plus Jonathan's kid brother and _Nancy's_ brother, and going through something like that just puts things in perspective, you know?"

"I guess," Billy said slowly. "Yeah, totally, I get it. What _happened_ though?"

Steve blinked and didn't say anything. He looked away for a second and licked his lips. _Shit_ , Billy thought, _he's never going to talk to me again._

"You gonna invite me inside?" Steve finally said, offering Billy a small smile. "I have some pot with me. I believe I owe you a smoke." He winked. 

"My parents won't be home for at least another hour," Billy grinned. 

Steve opened up the glove compartment and rooted around for his pot. A can of hairspray rolled to the front. Billy stared at the label, his lips pulling up into a wide smile. 

"Steve," he said. "You use Farrah Fawcett hairspray?"

Steve grabbed his pot, a glass pipe, and a lighter. He maintained eye contact with Billy as he shut the glove compartment. 

"You want to get high or talk about my hair some more, Blondie?" he smirked. 

* * *

They smoked the pot in Steve's car before heading inside. Billy gave Steve a quick house tour with exaggerated enthusiasm, like he was on that home improvement TV show Susan watched sometimes. The tour ended at Billy's bedroom and he was suddenly self-conscious. He pushed the feeling aside and pushed open the door. 

"This is where the magic happens?" Steve asked. He started looking around the room. Checking out the boombox and the stacks of tapes. Looking at the titles of Billy's books. Going through the various hair products and colognes. 

If Steve were anyone else, Billy would have loudly objected to them poking through his things, even though he didn't really have anything truly incriminating in there. Bedrooms were deeply personal. Most people understood that they were sacred, private spaces. But it somehow felt different with Steve. Steve going on a deep dive in his room didn't feel like an invasion. It felt intimate. 

"Nice," Steve said, gesturing toward the poster of Shauna Grant on Billy's wall. Billy hated that poster. He only put it up to keep his dad from thinking he was anything but straight. Same reason why he kept copies of Penthouse in his bedside drawer (and okay, some of the articles _were_ good reads). 

"So is your arm all fucked up?" Steve asked.

"Oh yeah," Billy said dramatically. "It's totally mangled. The doctor thought he was gonna have to amputate it." 

"Holy shit," Steve's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"No!" Billy laughed. "It's not that bad. I think I only needed, like, six stitches."

"Can I see?"

"Uh, sure, I guess. I have to change the gauze anyway."

Billy grabbed one of the fresh rolls of gauze he had been given at the hospital and sat down on his bed. Steve next to him and watched Billy peel the old dressing off of his arm. Once the gauze was off, Steve couldn't take his eyes away from Billy's injuries.

"Do you need help wrapping it?" Steve asked. "I took a first aid course over the summer."

"Yeah," Billy said, with just the slightest hesitation. "Sure."

Billy handed Steve the gauze. Steve moved closer to Billy. So close that their thighs were touching. Steve took hold of Billy's wrist and gently guided his arm to his lap. Billy's heart quickened. 

_Fucking chill, Hargrove,_ he thought. _He's just wrapping up your arm. That's all this is._

Steve lightly traced the patterns and lines that the creatures teeth left with his fingertips. Brushed over the bruise on his wrist. Billy's breath hitched; he prayed Steve didn't notice. 

"This isn't from a coyote, is it?" Steve finally said. 

Billy heart thudded in his ears. Steve was staring at him. Billy looked down for a second and then met his gaze.

"No," Billy said, his voice little more than a whisper. 

"What did this to you?" 

"I don't know."

"What did it look like?" The way Steve asked...it was almost like he knew something. What did Steve know?

Billy licked his lips before answering. This was it. This was going to be the first time he talked about what actually happened. And he was going to talk about it with Steve Harrington. Billy could only hope Steve didn't think he was a total, crazy freak. 

"It didn't have a face."

The color drained from Steve's face. He looked like he saw a ghost. But he didn't say anything. Neither of them said anything. They sat in silence as Steve wrapped up Billy's arm.

* * *

Max hadn't had a ton of friends in California and the friends she did have were all boys. She knew why; she was too abrasive. She played rough. She liked to play-fight. Sometimes she itched to fight for real, like Billy did, when things at home got too rough. She played video games and skateboarded and skinned her knees and let the blood run down her shins like war paint.

It's not that she didn't _want_ girl friends; it was just that they never seemed to want _her._ Max developed a habit early on to reject girls before they could reject her. She found solace in the female heroes in her books and comics, like Nancy Drew and Wonder Woman.

So it came as no surprise that in Hawkins, Max had only connected with guys. Well, a couple of guys. Dustin and Lucas. Their friend Mike was a dick and hated her for no reason. Max suspected it was her gender. And their other friend Will...Max barely knew him. He seemed nice enough, but there was something broken in him. 

Max lived with Billy; she could spot trauma and heartbreak and fear from a mile away, no matter how many layers of bullshit it was buried under. 

But it wasn't like her classmates at Hawkins Middle School were clamoring for the chance to hang out with her. So that's how Max found herself staying after school with Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will. To look at the weird, slimy little pollywog that Dustin had found in his trash.

And then, apparently, to be locked out of the AV room while the boys discussed some bullshit "Party only" matter. Fuck that. And fuck Mike. 

On impulse, Max picked the lock (she had learned the skill two years ago; she even taught Billy how to do it). When the door swung open, she found herself face-to-face with the pollywog. It had legs now. And when it looked up at her before running out the door and down the hallway, it let out a sickeningly familiar squeak.

* * *

"Okay, I need you to tell me everything," Steve said. He tucked in the end of the gauze.

"I just did," Billy insisted. "I went to go check out the _thing_ in the bushes that Max saw and it jumped up and started chewing on my arm."

"And it didn't have a face?"

"No, it..." Billy trailed off. This was stupid. Steve obviously didn't believe him. He probably thought Billy was crazy. "It might have had a face," he ended lamely. 

"It _might have_ had a face?"

"I guess? I don't know! Okay? It was dark out and...and a lot was going on and...I mean, it _had_ to have a face right? It bit me. You can't bite someone if you don't have a face."

The more he thought about it, the more this perfectly rational explanation made sense. This wasn't some science fiction book; this was reality. Monsters didn't exist. It _had_ to have been something else. If not a coyote then some other animal rooted in reality. God, maybe Billy _was_ crazy. 

"Just...just forget I said anything, okay?" Billy said. "I'm stoned, don't listen to me. And I was probably stoned when it happened, so...so it was _definitely_ a coyote or something. It had a face. It definitely had a face."

Steve was staring at him hard, his brows furrowed like he was trying to make sense of anything Billy was saying. 

"You were _probably_ stoned?"

"I'm stoned a lot of the time, Steve."

"Hey guys, I'm home!"

Billy and Steve jumped at the sound of Susan's voice coming in from down the hall. 

"That your mom?" Steve asked. 

"My stepmom."

They walked out of Billy's room. Steve was about to meet Susan and the thought of that alone put Billy on edge. 

_It's fine, it's just your friend Steve, your friend Steve came over after school, there's literally nothing to be nervous about, this is a totally normal thing, you're fine_

"Hi, Mrs. Hargrove," Steve greeted Susan with a winning smile. He held out his hand to shake hers. "My name is Steve. I'm friends with Billy."

"Oh, hi!" Susan said warmly. "Are you a junior, too?"

"No, I'm a senior, but Billy and I are going to be on the basketball team together."

"Billy, you made the team?" Susan asked happily. Billy nodded. 

"I actually have to get going," Steve said. "My parents are expecting me home."

Billy's heart dropped. Steve thought he was a crazy freak-show. Shit. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Billy!" Steve said as he walked out. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hargrove!"

"He seemed nice," Susan said as she closed the door. "Where's Max? We need to get you to the doctors for your shot."

Right, his rabies shot. Because he was bitten by a coyote-or-something. 

Oh shit. Where _was_ Max?

"She stayed after school for a club. With her friends," Billy covered. He hoped he was right. God, he hoped she actually _was_ with her friends and not, like, kidnapped or in a ditch somewhere. 

_Or attacked by a coyote-creature_

* * *

Susan insisted on going into the exam room with Billy. Doctor Sinclair was again accompanied by Rick, who greeted Billy with a friendly, "Hey, Rabies Boy! Ready for Round Two?"

Billy offered a sardonic, "Oh, you know it. Can't wait."

He laid back on the table, lifted his shirt, and didn't flinch this time when Rick held him down on the table. 

"Oh _God_ ," Susan breathed as she watched Doctor Sinclair prep the syringe. She was standing next the table. "Don't look, okay?"

"I already saw it last night," Billy laughed. 

And then Susan gently covered Billy's hand with her own. Billy looked at her, his eyebrows raised. He suddenly felt a surge of irritation, bordering on anger. Last week, Susan had heard Neil shove Billy into a bookshelf and said nothing. For almost five years, she had watched and heard her husband shove, slap, and scream at Billy without batting an eye and _now_ she wanted to _hold his hand_ while he got a shot?

And with the anger came guilt—guilt at feeling angry at Susan because, fuck, she did _not_ deserve that. When he was twelve years old, about four months after Susan and Neil had said their vows, a severe flu had gone around Billy's school; Billy had caught it. Susan had taken a week off of work to stay home with him. She had kept him hydrated, made him soup, rubbed his back when he threw up. Even helped him into the bath when his 103º fever broke and he felt clammy and sweaty and weak from the illness. 

And then, of course, there was the incident in June, a week before Neil broke Billy's collarbone. When Neil was on a weekend trip with his work buddies and Billy had gone to a college party he had no business going to. Had gone to a party and came home at two in the morning, blasted out of his mind despite only drinking one beer. Had spent the entire next day going from curled up and shivering in bed to kneeling on the bathroom floor with his head in the toilet. He had stuffed his blood-stained underwear to the bottom of his trashcan, double-bagged it, and tossed it into the neighbors' trash bin that night.

Susan had taken care of him as best she could with the very limited information that she had. Had given him water and held his hair back, even when he was just dry heaving. Had fucking _held him_ when he cried and cried and couldn't stop.

_"Did something happen at the party?" Susan asked softly, rubbing circles onto Billy's back. He shuddered and nodded into her tear-soaked neck. He was practically in her lap. "Do you want to talk about it?"_

_"No," Billy gasped out. He took a few shaky breaths. Tried to get his tears under control. Failed. "Please don't tell my dad," he begged._

_"I won't, sweetheart, I won't," she soothed. She stroked his hair. He cried harder. "I got you, honey, you're okay."_

She kept her word and she never pushed him to tell her what happened. She never even brought it up again.

Over the years, for the most part, Billy had been a snarky little shit to her. They had some good moments together, some genuinely good days together, but for the most part, Billy could only clearly remember being an asshole to his stepmother. 

And here she was, still offering to _hold his hand_ while he got a shot in his stomach. _Jesus, Hargrove, you are such a piece of shit._

Rick, evidently picking up on the tension, leaned down so that his mouth was level with Billy's ear. He flinched. He couldn't help it. 

"You know," Rick whispered, "You can hold your mama's hand if you want to. No one here is gonna judge you if you do."

Normally, he would have corrected Rick and told him that Susan wasn't his _mother_ she was his _stepmother,_ but he just didn't have it in him. 

Doctor Sinclair sterilized Billy's stomach with an alcohol pad. He vividly remembered how badly this was going to hurt. 

He slightly turned his hand so he could hold Susan's. She gave him a small, reassuring smile and gently squeezed his hand. 

"Okay, Billy, just a stick and a bit of pressure..."

Susan kept holding Billy's hand, no matter how hard he squeezed as the shot was administered. 

* * *

"When does practice start?" Susan asked. They were in the car on the way home. Susan was a careful driver; her hands never left the ten-and-two position and Billy had never witnessed her going even two above the speed limit. Susan drove a brown 1977 Buick Skylark. It was understated and practical and the interior always smelled like Susan's L'air du Temps perfume with just a hint of the Virginia Slims she pretended not to smoke. Billy thought the car suited her perfectly.

"Monday."

"You excited?"

"Yeah, I guess."

There was a drop in the conversation. _Ask her how her day was, you jackass, have a conversation._

"Steve seemed nice," Susan said for the second time. "I'm glad you're making friends here."

She had never met Tommy or Carol. Billy had never even mentioned them to her. Maybe that was for the best, all things considered. 

"Have you spoken to Amy at all? I know it's long distance but..." Susan trailed off. 

"Yeah," Billy said in a detached way. "I called her yesterday." He paused before saying, "I don't think I'm gonna call her again."

"Oh no, why not?"

"Got in a fight," Billy muttered. He turned his head to stare out the window.

Susan didn't say anything for a moment. 

"I didn't like her," she said.

Billy turned to look at her. 

"You didn't _know_ her," he said incredulously. 

"That girl was at our house three, four days a week, and you were at her's the rest of the time," Susan pointed out. "You think I didn't know her?"

"Why didn't you like her?" Billy asked after a second's hesitation.

Susan pursed her lips before answering. 

"She didn't treat you well," she said. "From what I saw, your friendship with her was on her terms. God, I remember when you were fourteen and she didn't answer your calls for an entire week and you were just _so upset_ about it, and then when you two started hanging out again, it was just...different."

Billy was speechless. He had no idea that Susan had like...observed him like this. He hadn't realized that she paid so close attention to him. He didn't know how he felt about it. 

"She wasn't nice to you," Susan said. 

Billy looked out the window again. 

"Dad isn't nice to me either," he said quietly. 

The rest of the drive was quiet.

* * *

They got home at around five o'clock. Max still wasn't home. Neil usually got home at around five-thirty.

"You said she was at some after-school club?" Susan asked. It was getting dark out. She was nervous. So was Billy.

"Yeah, I think so."

"You _think so?_ "

Billy didn't know what to say. God, what even _could_ he say?

The minutes ticked by torturously. Billy did his homework at the kitchen table as Susan loudly banged around in the kitchen as she chopped up vegetables for dinner. Susan was only loud like this when she was truly stressed out or nervous. 

Neil came home. He didn't notice anything was amiss as he kissed Susan hello and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

"You go to the doctor?" he asked Billy as a greeting. 

"Yeah, we got back a little bit ago."

"Where's Max?"

The noise in the kitchen stopped. Billy bit his lip. No one answered. 

"What's wrong? Where is your sister?" Neil asked more forcefully. Billy didn't say anything. "Billy!"

"I don't know where she is," he said softly.

Max was missing and if she was hurt or _in danger_ or _dead_ it would be all Billy's fault and Billy would _never_ be able to live with himself if something happened to her all because he was careless and selfish and chose to accept a ride from Steve instead of waiting for her after school and _all because he thought Steve was cute_ because he was a _fucking degenerate faggot and_

The front door opened and Max walked in, holding her skateboard. 

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Maxine Grace!" Susan yelled, storming out of the kitchen. Billy winced empathetically; full names were never good. "Where the _hell_ were you?"

Max shot Billy a desperate look. Shit, what if Max _hadn't_ been with her friends at school like Billy had said she was? Their stories wouldn't match up and there would be hell to pay. Billy made eye contact with her and tried desperately to, like, telepathically communicate. 

"I stayed after for AV Club with some friends," Max said. Billy let out a small and silent sigh of relief. Their stories lined up _thank God._

"And AV Club lasted this long?" Susan asked, putting her hands on her hips. 

"No, I, um," Max faltered. "I was skateboarding. In the parking lot. I guess I lost track of time."

"You had your mother worried sick, Maxine," Neil scolded. "You know you're not supposed to be out this late, especially by yourself."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Which friends were you with?" he demanded. 

Max shot Billy another look, as if he could possibly help her out. _You're on your own with this one, kiddo._

"Don't look at Billy," Neil said, his voice raising. "Look at me. Which friends were you with?"

Billy looked down at the table, as if his math homework just became fascinating. He wondered what Maxine would say. _Please, Max, for the love of God, do not say Lucas Sinclair, do not say Lucas Sinclair, say literally any other name._

"Dustin Henderson, Will Byers, and Mike Wheeler."

_Good job, shitbird._

"All boys, huh?" Neil said.

_Crap._

"Dinner is almost ready," Susan cut in. "Max, Billy, go wash up and get back in here to set the table."

Billy grabbed his homework and he and Max walked down the hall to where their bedrooms and the bathroom were. Billy tossed his stuff in his room, grabbed Max's arm, and pulled her into the bathroom. He turned the faucet on. 

"Was that bullshit or were you actually at AV club and skating in the parking lot?" he whispered. 

"It was like...half bullshit."

"What does that even _mean_?"

"Dustin brought this thing to school and it..." Max trailed off. She scrubbed at her hands.

"It what?"

"It kind of sounded like the thing that bit you."

Billy went cold. He couldn't fucking deal with this right now. 

"Get out of here, I need to piss," he muttered, giving her a small push out the door.

* * *

Susan made some sort of chicken and vegetable stir fry. Billy couldn't resist making a half-assed "stir Friday" joke. Max was the only one who seemed to appreciate it, even a little bit. They ate mostly in silence, with only Susan and Neil making small talk about their days. Finally, Susan addressed Max. 

"Today was unacceptable, Maxine," she said calmly. "I know Hawkins is safer than San Diego, but you can't just disappear without telling anyone where you're going or who you're with."

"I know," Max said softly. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"You're grounded. Full week. This weekend through next weekend. You're to come straight home after school. No arcade, no skateboarding, no going out with your friends. You understand?"

"Yeah, I understand."

"Billy is going to make sure you adhere to this," Neil said. 

"I am?" Billy asked, looking back and forth at his dad and his stepmom. 

"Yes, you are," Neil said evenly, the edge of a threat on his voice. "You're going to drive her to and from school every day, as usual, and you're going to stay in the house and watch her. On the weekends, too."

"That's such bullshit!"

"Language!" Neil and Susan said together. 

"What, so Max screws up and I get grounded too?" Billy raised his voice. "That's so unfair!"

"If you had been watching her in the first place, we wouldn't be having this discussion," Neil snapped.

"I start basketball practice on Monday," Billy argued. "What, am I just supposed to bring her with me?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I expect you to do," Neil said in his "do not test me" tone. 

"This is fucking bullshit," Billy said under his breath, looking down at the table. 

"What was that, William?"

Billy forced himself to meet Neil's glare. Susan and Max had gone quiet. The tension was thick. All of Billy's self-preservation instincts were screaming at him to shut the fuck up. Past experience told him to shut the fuck up. Every shred of logic and reason he possessed told him to shut the fuck up. 

"I said this is _fucking. Bullshit_."

Billy heard the slap across his face before he felt it. That's how it usually went: the loud _crack_ of his father's hand and then the bloom of pain on his cheek. He got up from the table to retreat to his room. 

"You're not excused," Neil boomed. "Sit your ass back down."

Billy's jaw twitched. He sat back down. If there was anything worse than getting hit, it was getting hit in front of other people and then be forced to sit with them through a Nice Family Dinner. 

"You need to learn respect and responsibility," Neil said. "Do you understand that?"

"Yes, sir," Billy answered.

Neil resumed his conversation with Susan as if nothing had happened. She participated, but more quietly. Billy pushed his food around on his plate. His cheek was throbbing. 

Under the table, Billy felt Max gently nudging his foot with hers. He glanced over at her; she offered a fleeting look of sympathy and apology. 

It wasn't Max's fault his dad hit him. It wasn't even really her fault that she had dragged Billy into a week of house arrest with her. He had no legitimate reason to be mad at her and he was too tired to think up a reason. 

He held the eye contact and nudged her back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a quick note about the timeline in this fic, since it differs from canon: 
> 
> This chapter takes place Friday, November 2, 1984. On this day, Dustin brings Dart to school to show him to Mike, Will, Lucas, and Max (this is when Dart escapes for the first time).
> 
> Tuesday, November 6, 1984: Nancy and Jonathan manage to get the recording at Hawkins Lab of Dr Owens admitting the existence of the Upside Down and admitting that it's the lab's fault that Barb died. 
> 
> Wednesday, November 7, 1984: Nancy and Billy study together; Nancy plays the recording from the lab for Billy. 
> 
> Saturday, November 10, 1984: Shit goes down. 
> 
> Next Up:
> 
> Chapter Title: "Secret for secret?"
> 
> Nancy tells Billy the truth about what happened in Hawkins last year.


	6. "Secret for secret?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In between starting basketball practice and trying not to rock the boat at home, Billy tries to distract himself from his growing crush on Steve.
> 
> A distraction comes to him...in the form of Nancy Wheeler dropping a bomb about what happened in Hawkins last year.
> 
> Highlights from this chapter include:  
> —Basketball practice  
> —Billy teaching Steve how to headbang  
> —Billy and Nancy spilling their guts to each other  
> —Billy thinking of Steve while masturbating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, sorry this was so delayed. 
> 
> Content warnings: Internalized homophobia, blink-and-you-miss-it reference to the AIDS crisis, masturbation, referenced child abuse, reference to sexual assault, reference to underage sex between Billy and several adults (Nate Perez from chapter 2 is one of them)

The best part about being a latchkey kid was that even when you were grounded, you still had an astounding lack of parental supervision. 

When Monday rolled around, Billy made it very clear to Max that he did _not_ want her hanging around the gym until he was able to take her home after basketball practice. 

_"As if I'd even **want** to watch you run drills," she rolled her eyes. _

_"Just make sure you're in the parking lot by 4:30, shitbird," Billy told her._

He was glad Max had fucked off to wherever in that hour and a half after school. It wasn't like he _hated_ spending time with her. He really didn't. It was just that basketball was _his_ thing, just like skateboarding and arcade games were _her_ things. 

Billy was confident on the court. Had been since he first started playing in middle school. He was good at basketball; a combination of practice and natural talent. The thing about the sport he liked most was that when he played, he _only_ had to concentrate on the game. He could let all of his other thoughts and feelings of self-doubt, self- _loathing_ just drip off of him like sweat. On the court, he never thought about whatever shitty thing his dad did or said to him that week. He never thought about the fact that if he wasn't _super fucking careful_ about who he slept with, there was a chance he could get horribly sick and die. He never thought about his mom and wonder where the hell she was and wonder if she ever even thought about him. 

Nope. All he had to think about during practice was the ball, the hoop, and bringing the two together. 

The only other sport that Billy was able to zen out to like this was surfing. And well...who knew when he would ever be able to surf again?

Weight lifting was similar, but Billy didn't do that for fun—he lifted to feel his muscles burn and ache.

During practice, Coach Adams broke the team up into two for a scrimmage; Steve was on shirts, Billy on skins. He was torn between being mildly bummed at not playing on Steve's team and being excited at the prospect of competing with him. What could he say: he thrived on competition. 

Plus, the bruise on his stomach had faded and he tended to jump at opportunities where he could show off his body whenever it wasn't totally marred and bruised up beyond a reasonable explanation. He didn't get that chance very often. 

Practice wasn't bad. It turned out that Steve was a pretty good player. So good that Billy couldn't resist targeting him whenever he was open or had the ball, trying to distract him from the game.

"Careful man, you're gonna bust your stitches," Steve said over his shoulder as he dribbled the ball. Billy was right behind him, preparing to knock the ball out of his hands. Maybe almost grinding on him. Maybe. 

"Oh, what, am I distracting the great King Steve?" Billy taunted. 

Steve huffed out a laugh. 

"In your dreams, Blondie."

"Hargrove, stop fucking around and get the ball!" Tommy yelled from across the court. Billy looked up just in time to see Tommy's lips move as he said something to Evan McCreedy. Billy couldn't hear him, but the movement of his lips kind of looked like the word _homo._

Without warning, Billy knocked the ball away from Steve, dribbled it down the court, and made the shot. He looked back and saw that he had accidentally tripped Steve to the ground. Shit. Billy hoped he didn't take it personally. 

* * *

Billy took the shower at the end of the row. No one was there and he figured he could just clean up quickly, throw his clothes on, and get out before Tommy or anyone else could start shit with him. The last fucking thing he needed was some smart-ass comment about queers in locker rooms. As if he would pop a boner over any of those backwoods losers. But still, he didn't think he would be able to _not_ beat the crap out of the first guy who said that shit to him. 

He _hated_ that he would even entertain the thought of solving a problem with violence. _You're turning into Dad, you piece of shit_ , he thought. 

"You're not too bad out there for a junior."

Billy looked to his left to see Steve turning on the shower head next to his. He was, like, fully naked. And wet. And giving him that smirk that Billy couldn't stop thinking about last night. 

Billy had never seen Steve when he wasn't fully clothed. He had a really nice body. Billy averted his eyes and grabbed his shampoo. 

"'Not too bad'," Billy scoffed playfully. "I wiped the floor with your whole team, dude."

"Cocky bastard," Steve teased. 

_Don't look at his dick,_ a voice in Billy's head screamed. _Don't even **think** about his dick. If you see his dick, you'll for sure get hard and then everything will be **fucking over** for you.Think about something gross. Think about maggots. Think about that time you saw that dead possum with maggots crawling all over it._

"Hey," Steve now said lowly. "Are you doing okay with everything..." he trailed off and gestured to Billy's arm. The saran wrap that Billy had quickly and slopping put over his bandages was unraveling. 

"Yeah," Billy said quickly. "I mean, rabies shots hurt like a bitch and I still have like nine more to get, but other than that, everything's cool."

"Rabies shots," Steve repeated slowly. 

"Yeah, Steve," Billy faced him head on now. He needed to be done with this conversation for, like, ever. "Because of the coyote."

"Right," Steve said, like he didn't believe him. "The _coyote_."

Steve started lathering up his hair and _fuck_ that shouldn't have been so hot, especially given the conversation. _Maggots maggots maggots_

Billy needed to get a grip on himself, shit, he needed to get the upper hand and put a stop to Steve's questions and disbelief about that fucking night. 

"It was a coyote, Harrington," he said with finality, holding eye contact with Steve. He went in for the kill and turned Steve's water off before turning away and moving to his locker to get dressed. 

Billy only noticed that Steve followed him out as he was pulling his jeans on; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve leaning against the lockers, arms crossed, and only wearing a towel.

"Jesus, dude," Billy said, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Steve said playfully. 

Billy rolled his eyes and put his shirt on. Their other teammates were milling around the locker room in various states of undress. Billy accidentally made eye contact with Tommy, who was getting dressed across the room, and instantly regretted it. 

"The fuck you looking at Hargrove?" Tommy said loudly. 

"Not much, Hagan," Billy shot back. Steve snorted.

"Listen," Steve said in a more serious tone. "I'm sorry if I, like, pushed you or whatever. If you say it was a coyote, it was a coyote."

Billy nodded wordlessly. 

"You need help rewrapping that?" Steve offered, pointing to his arm. 

"Sure," Billy gave him a small grin. "Thanks."

"No problem, lemme just get dressed first."

Steve opened his locker and dropped his towel. Billy tried not to look. He really, honestly tried not to look. If it were anyone else, Billy wouldn't even be interested enough to make the effort not to look.

But it wasn't anyone else. It was Steve. Steve with the great hair and beautiful face. Steve with the unfairly sexy smirk and voice and _laugh_. Steve who was funny and drove him home _twice_ and who actually wanted to hang out with him and who seemed to _genuinely like him_. 

Billy only looked for a second. Not even. Like...a split second and he didn't think Steve even noticed. 

Steve Harrington was packing some serious heat. 

* * *

Max was leaning on the Camaro when Billy and Steve walked out of the high school together. When she and Billy made eye contact, she made a big show of looking at her watch. 

"4:45," she called out to him. "And you give _me_ shit about being late."

"Damn and I was _so close_ to letting you pick the music," Billy drawled. Steve laughed and dug his own keys out of his pocket; his Beemer was parked a few spaces away from Billy, but the parking lot was basically empty and there weren't any cars between theirs.

"This is my sister, Maxine," Billy said. 

"It's Max," she corrected with an eye roll. 

"Hey, Max," Steve said with a winning smile. "I'm Steve."

Max muttered a hey and climbed into the car as soon as Billy unlocked it. Billy found himself just...so fucking glad that Steve was genuinely friendly to his kid sister instead of being a condescending jerk like Tommy had been when he briefly met Max. 

"So are you her chauffeur then?" Steve teased. Billy laughed around a playful _fuck you._

"You doing anything tomorrow after school?" Was Steve's next question.

"Kinda," Billy shrugged. "Max is grounded so I'm, like, basically her babysitter for the week."

"Well that sucks," Steve sighed dramatically. "'Cause I was gonna ask if you wanted to hang for a bit."

"I can hang for a bit," Billy said way too quickly. 

The Camaro's horn blasted; Max gave Billy a pointed look through the windshield and jabbed her finger on her watch. Billy shot her a look that clearly said _Cut it out, dipshit!_

"Guess you gotta motor, huh?" Steve chuckled. 

"Guess so."

"No sweat. I'll see ya tomorrow," Steve smiled. Billy answered _See ya_ and watched as he got into his car. He watched Steve put his key in the ignition with laser-sharp precision, adjust a knob on the radio, put his sunglasses on, and start driving. He gave Billy and Max a quick wave a smile as he passed the Camaro. Billy returned the smile and gesture. 

Max laid down on the horn again. 

"What the _fuck,_ Maxine?" he snarled as he climbed into the car, throwing his book bag in the backseat. He knocked her hand away from the steering wheel. 

"Our curfew is in fifteen minutes!" she said. 

Shit. She was right. 

"Well," Billy said, revving the engine. "Guess we'll see if I can get us home in ten."

They flew down the road at 75 miles per hour. To say it was above the speed limit would be the understatement of the century. Normally, Max would either be begging him to slow down or egging him on to go even faster. But now, she was slumped in her seat, staring out the window with her head in her hand. 

"What's with you?" Billy asked. 

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that. Look, I know I was late, but you _know_ it's gonna be me who gets in trouble if we miss curfew. So just chill out, okay?"

Max didn't say anything for a moment. 

"Those guys I was hanging out with are jerks," she finally said. 

A terrible though crossed through Billy's mind. If those boys did anything to Max—if they fucking _touched_ Max—Billy would fucking lose it. 

"What happened?" he asked, his jaw tense. 

"Nothing," she said. "It's stupid."

" _Max_."

"They don't want me in their DnD party, okay?" she all but shouted. 

A wave of relief washed over Billy. 

"Yeah," he agreed. "That is pretty stupid. _They_ are stupid."

* * *

They made it home. The fact that they made it home without being pulled over for speeding was incredible. The fact that they made it home a full ten minutes before Susan did was nothing short of a miracle. 

Billy offered to help Susan with dinner. He had plans to study for a bio test with Nancy on Wednesday and he needed to stay in his parents' good graces to do that. Susan was the key to his dad's good side. It helped that he genuinely liked Susan and would have probably offered to help her out anyway. 

Susan put him to work scrubbing potatoes and peeling carrots. They made small talk about practice and Susan's day at work. He engaged in gossip about her coworkers that he would likely never meet.

"And you know, she is just _such_ a busybody," Susan said. She was talking about this woman named Annette. From what Susan was telling him, Billy thought that Annette was a total bitch and was glad their paths would probably never cross. "Honestly, Billy, I'm already so tired of seeing her face everyday."

"Maybe you should get a new job."

"Oh, I couldn't," Susan said. "I haven't even been there for a year. What do you think it would look like to someone hiring that a potential employee didn't even spend _a year_ at their previous position?"

"That they didn't like their job or their coworkers?" Billy shrugged. 

"Yes, exactly."

Billy and Susan exchanged looks. It was very clear that the two were on _very_ different wavelengths. 

"Hey, so I totally forgot to mention," Billy said carefully. "I have a biology test on Thursday. And I kind of made plans with my friend to study for it together on Wednesday. We made the plans last week, before...you know..."

"Mmhmm," Susan hummed, like she already knew where this was going. "Which friend? Steve?"

" _No,_ " Billy said with too much emphasis. "Um, my friend Nancy. We also have English together."

Susan raised her eyebrows and nodded, focusing her attention on the vegetables she was cutting. 

"I guess that'll be ok," she said. "You'll bring Max with you? She can just sit quietly and do her homework."

"Yeah, yeah," Billy said. "That's exactly what I was thinking."

"I don't see any problem with that," Susan said. "I'll let your dad know if you guys run late."

" _Awesome_. Thank you."

Susan smiled and nodded. 

"So this Nancy girl," she began. 

"We're _just_ friends, Susan."

* * *

It was late at night and Billy couldn't sleep. Nothing was particularly bothering him. The night had been totally calm—he and Max got their homework done and his dad was in a good mood, so there was no fighting, no arguing, no threatening looks. His dad had even _voiced his approval_ of Billy studying with Nancy on Wednesday. 

Obviously, neither his dad nor Susan knew about his plan to hang out with Steve the next day. He needed to keep it that way. 

Steve. That was what was keeping Billy awake past midnight. _Who_ was keeping him awake. Steve. King Steve. With his face, and his voice, and his smile, and his laugh, and the way he was so confident, and the way he drove his car, and the way he looked at Billy like he was the only person in the room...

Billy liked him. There was no way around it. Billy fuckin' _liked_ Steve Harrington the same way he had liked Chris Phelps. And Steve was totally, unquestionably straight and so absolutely nothing would happen between them. 

Billy had to resolve his feelings for him before they hung out. Otherwise...well, there was no telling what he would do or say. He would probably make a total ass of himself. And then Steve would never want to hang out with him ever again and Billy would never see his face again or his lips...

Steve's lips. 

Billy imagined them pressed against his own. Imagined Steve pushing him down on his bed and climbing on top of him, between his legs, touching his neck, his chest. Slotting their lips together over and over again. Sliding his tongue into Billy's mouth.

Billy's dick twitched. He hesitantly slipped a hand underneath the bed sheets, in his boxers. Touched himself. Let himself get lost in the fantasy. 

Steve would move from his lips to his neck, kissing, biting, and sucking the sensitive skin there. _God, I want you,_ Steve would breathe into his ear. No, _growl_ into his ear. Like he wanted to own him. Fucking _use_ him. Billy felt himself harden even more. He stroked his cock more.

He imagined Steve, totally naked, rutting against him, rubbing their bare cocks together while holding him down by the wrists. Imagined Steve moving one hand down, down, down to jam a finger into Billy's hole. Jam _two_ or _three_ fingers in. 

_Gonna take it all, right, baby?_ He would ask. Billy imagined himself nodding eagerly like _Yeah, gonna take it all, fuckin' give it to me._

Billy hesitated...and then opened the drawer in his nightstand to grab the small tub of Vaseline. He quickly slicked his fingers up and carefully, slowly, slid one inside himself. Moved it around a bit before adding another. 

He hadn't been touched like this in _months_. Hadn't touched _himself_ _in months_. After That Party back in June, the thought of sex and everything sex-related left Billy feeling...not sick exactly, more like...numb. Five days after That Party, Billy had gone over to Nate Perez's apartment to get fucked. It had hurt. Billy had wanted it to hurt. Mostly, though, he just couldn't stand the thought of That Asshole being the last person to touch him. Had needed to override That Night with something, anything, else. And Nate was always down to get his dick wet. 

And then, not even an hour later, he had been hit with this powerful, consuming need to override having sex with Nate, because Nate was a fucking asshole who apparently had a boyfriend but had screwed Billy anyway, and suddenly, Billy couldn't stand the thought of _Nate_ being the last person to touch him. So he had ventured into a known cruising spot at a park in Nate's neighborhood after he left the apartment, and instantly found some random dude to bend him over against a tree behind some bushes.

Two days later, he went back to the spot, gave _another_ random man a blowjob, _went with him to a party_ even though every fiber in Billy's body was screaming _DANGER DANGER_ , and ended up blowing coke up his nose the entire night with a drag queen who kept crying that Billy was way too young to be partying like this.

He didn't arrive home until the next morning. And then Neil broke his collarbone. 

But Billy couldn't think about that right now.

He nudged his fingertips against his prostate and bit his lips around a gasp. _Fuck_ that felt good. He pressed against the spot again. _God._

He brought his other hand up to his mouth and bit down on it, suppressing any loud gasps or moans. 

He imagined Steve holding a hand to his mouth instead. He flushed. 

He imagined Steve lubing up his cock, lining up with Billy's hole and just, like, _shoving it in_ and _fucking him_. Imagined himself grasping onto Steve's shoulders, digging his nails into his skin, Steve groaning in his ear, biting his neck...

Billy thrust his fingers in and out of his hole, ramming against his prostate with almost every stroke. He took his other hand away from his mouth and gripped his cock, stroking it in time with his fingers. Imagined Steve on top of him. 

He turned his head and bit down onto his pillow as he climaxed, muffling the soft cry that managed to slip past his lips. 

He managed to quickly wipe himself up with a tissue before passing out. He slept like a baby soon after.

* * *

The plan was for Steve to meet Billy at the strip mall where the arcade was. There really wasn't much there besides the arcade—an auto shop and a store specializing in baby clothes and toys were the only other businesses occupying that space. But it was close to school and convenient for both of them. 

"Hey, if I dropped you off at the arcade for an hour, do you promise not to tell the parents?" Billy asked Max as she got in his car. 

"Yeah, obviously," she answered enthusiastically. Billy silently cheered. A lot of his peers didn't get along with their younger siblings. Max was mostly easy—just put a video game or a skate park in front of her and she was totally down to cooperate with him or _cover for him_. 

When they got to the arcade, Max jumped out of the car to go inside as soon as Billy parked, eager to milk as many games as she could in the hour. Billy waited in the Camaro, scanning the parking lot for Steve's Beemer. 

The minutes ticked by. Billy wondered, with a pit in his stomach, if Steve had come to his senses and realized what a fucking loser, faggy spazz his was and decided not to show. He shook a Marlboro out of his pack to calm his nerves. He held the cig between his teeth and dug around the glove compartment for a matchbook. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at his window. 

He turned around to see Steve leaning on the driver's side door, giving him that grin. 

Billy rolled his window down.

"Hey!" he said.

"Hey," Steve said back. "Not a lot to do around here, huh?"

"Not unless you wanna go in and play Space Invaders."

"Hmm," Steve said. "Maybe next time."

Billy's heart fluttered. _Next time next time next time_

"Well..." Billy said. "Want to just hang in my car and listen to music?"

"Now how could I say no to that?"

Billy couldn't stop his lips from pulling up into a stupidly wide smile. He unlocked the door so Steve could get in. 

"So _this_ is what your car looks like on the inside," Steve said, checking out the interior. "Might be even nicer than your bedroom."

Billy snorted. 

"Only thing missing is one of those hula girls on your dash. Kind of surprised you don't have one of those already, actually."

"Shut up."

"What kind of music you got in here?"

Billy opened the glove compartment and gestured for Steve to take a look.

"Didn't take you for a fan of Madonna and Blondie," Steve said, taking out the cassette. 

"I'm not really," Billy laughed. "Max is."

"So you keep the tapes in your car for her?" Steve smiled. "That's really sweet. I like that."

No one had ever called Billy sweet. Steve's words echoed in his mind. _That's really sweet. I like that._

 _He said he liked **that** , you dumbass, _he mentally checked himself. _He didn't say he liked **you**._

"Do you like Metallica?" Billy asked.

"I've never listened to them," Steve confessed. 

Billy gasped and pressed a hand to his heart. Steve laughed. 

"Okay well," Billy said, taking his _Kill 'Em All_ cassette out of its case and putting in the Camaro's tape deck. "Prepare to be amazed."

"Can't wait."

* * *

The hour flew by. They listened to Billy's music. Steve smiled widely and nodded along as Billy, like, totally geeked out on each band's lineup and history and weird little facts about the groups and the albums.

_"So, originally, Kill 'Em All was supposed to be called Metal Up Your Ass, but the studio wouldn't let them name the album that."_

_"Oh my God, you're bullshitting me. You **have** to be bullshitting me."_

_"Swear on my life, dude."_

Billy gave Steve a crash course in the art of headbanging. 

"You just...I don't know... _internalize_ the beat and, like, let your body take over," Billy explained. 

"Show me."

Billy did. Billy headbanged in his car to "Jump In The Fire." In front of Steve Harrington, who was grinning ear to ear watching him. 

"Try it!" Billy encouraged. He ran his tongue across his teeth as he watched Steve experimentally bob his head up and down to the music.

"Am I doing it?" Steve giggled. 

"Yeah, you almost got it," Billy said, laughing. 

"Maybe if I had a mullet it would work better," Steve teased. 

"Nah, I like your hair, Pretty Boy, don't go cuttin' it."

_"Pretty Boy"?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!_

But. Steve fucking smiled at that. 

"Hey, watch out, you...you have an eyelash," Steve said, staring into Billy's eyes. "Here, let me..."

Steve lightly pressed his finger to Billy's face, right under his right eye, where a loose eyelash had apparently settled. Billy's heart skipped, like, three beats. 

"Make a wish," Steve said, holding out the eyelash on his finger in front of Billy's lips. Billy, with a surge of confidence (or maybe recklessness), held Steve's eye contact and blew the eyelash away. 

"What'd you wish for?"

"Can't tell you that. It won't come true."

Steve chuckled and looked out the windshield. 

"Your sister's coming out."

Sure enough, Max was storming out of the arcade toward the Camaro. She looked pissed. Billy watched her walk out...and watched Lucas Sinclair watch her from the doorway of the arcade. 

Steve got out of the car. 

"Hey, Max!" he said. Max muttered a halfhearted greeting and plopped herself into the passenger sear. Billy couldn't help but be annoyed at her for not being nicer. Like...what the hell?

"Before I forget," Steve said, after he moved over to Billy's window. He handed Billy a scrap of paper. "Here's my number. Call me if you want to do this again. Or, you know, play Space Invaders," he added with a wink. 

"Were you just hanging out in the parking lot with him?" Max asked after Steve had driven away. Billy started up the Camaro and pulled away from the strip mall. 

"Yeah."

"That's weird."

"You're weird."

"So were you guys, like, smoking pot or something?" 

"What? No, we were just talking and listening to music."

Max didn't say anything. 

"Was Lucas giving you shit in there?" Billy asked. 

"No," Max said. 

"Okay, listen up, shitbird," Billy said. "I really didn't want to have to have this talk with you, but you probably shouldn't be hanging around that kid."

"Why?" Max asked petulantly. "Because he's a guy?"

Billy stopped at a red light and sighed deeply. 

"You know what I'm talking about."

Max wasn't stupid. She knew that Neil was a racist pile of crap. 

"I don't care what Neil thinks," she mumbled.

"I don't care what he thinks, either, but that's not the point," Billy said. "Seriously, you _have_ to be smart about this shit."

"You had black friends in San Diego!"

"Yeah, and _none_ of them ever came over and I didn't hang out with them in public and in broad daylight!"

Max crossed her arms and sighed. 

"Max, my dad already knows that you know this kid. Some neighbor lady told him she saw you hanging around him and those other guys on Halloween. And guess who caught shit for that?"

Max didn't say anything. 

"I know it sucks," Billy said. "Believe me, I _know_ how much it sucks, but Jesus, Max, we have to live with him. Just...fuck, just make it easier for yourself, okay? Shit, for _both of us._ Once you're on your own, you can hang out with whoever the hell you want _wherever_ the hell you want."

"Easy for you to say," she said. "You're gonna be out in two years."

Billy was quiet for a moment. He fully intended to move out the moment he turned eighteen. But where would that leave Max? If Billy was gone, his dad would more than likely find a new punching bag, and it would either be Max or Susan. That was why it was so crucial to try to teach Maxine to not rock the boat at the home _now,_ while she was still safe. But deep down, Billy knew that Neil would just find a reason to get pissed and lash out and get violent, even if everyone submitted to his stupid rules and codes. He'd been doing it since Billy was a kid. 

"Maybe," Billy hesitated. "Maybe when I move out I can take you with me."

"What about Mom?" she asked quietly. "She'll never leave him."

Billy bit his lip, hoping the pain would distract him from the gnawing ache in his chest. 

"Well, we'll just have to kidnap her, won't we?"

Max, thank God, laughed.

* * *

"Okay, next question: what are the seven main taxonomic ranks?"

Billy looked up from the flashcard when Nancy didn't answer. She was staring off into space. They were in her house, studying for the bio test at her kitchen table. Or rather, Billy was studying; Nancy was uncharacteristically unfocused and looked like she hadn't slept. 

"Earth to Nance," Billy tried again. "Seven taxonomic ranks?"

"Shit," she said. "Sorry. Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species."

Billy nodded and set the flashcard aside.

"Are you okay?" he asked. 

"Yeah," she said. "Sorry, I'm just...distracted with something."

"What's on your mind?"

Nancy bit her lip and shook her head. 

"I can't tell you," she said softly. "It's like...so ridiculously fucked up and you weren't here last year, so you have, like, no context..."

"Does it have to do with Steve?" he asked carefully. Nancy's eyes widened. "He told me you guys went through some shit last year."

"How much did he tell you?"

"Like...nothing."

Nancy didn't say anything for a minute. 

"Secret for secret?" Billy offered.

"Okay," Nancy breathed.

* * *

The new words and names and terms bounced around Billy's head. Upside Down. Demogorgon. Barbara Holland. Eleven. The crazy, fucked up shit that happened to Jonathan's brother Will. The government conspiracy surrounding it all.

The audio tape that Nancy played for him, proving everything she said was true. 

"Jesus Christ, Nance," Billy breathed. 

"You can't tell anyone," Nancy whispered. She wiped her eyes. "I'm so, so serious, Billy, you cannot tell a single soul."

"I won't."

They had moved from the kitchen to Nancy's bedroom. Her mother wasn't home, but Nancy was paranoid that she would arrive at an inopportune moment. After listening to the tape, Billy thought that paranoia was totally warranted. 

"Barb's parents hired this private investigator, Murray Bauman," Nancy continued, taking a shaky breath. "He lives out in Illinois. Jonathan and I are driving out there tomorrow after school. I think he'll be able to help. Barb's parents have _no idea_ what happened to her. They don't even know she's dead." Nancy looked like she might start crying again; Billy's heart clenched for her. "They deserve closure. And Barb deserves justice."

"Jesus Christ, Nance," Billy said for the second time. "You are so fucking brave, you know that?" 

Nancy looked down for a second. 

"Seriously," Billy insisted. "You went into that lab demanding answers like...like a fucking comic book hero or something and you _recorded them admitting to everything._ You're like...the bravest person I've ever met."

Nancy's lips quirked up into a smile. 

"So what's your secret then?" she asked. 

"Huh?"

"You said 'secret for secret'," Nancy raised her eyebrows expectantly. When he had said 'secret for secret', he had kind of, impulsively, wanted to tell Nancy that he was gay. But after listening to her tape, it just felt so...trivial. And unnecessary. And, even after hearing what everyone had been through last year, coming out still scared the hell out of Billy. He had never come out to anyone. Not formally at least. Amy only knew because she had walked in on Billy making out with their classmate's older brother when they were freshmen; they had never, ever talked about it. Billy had kind of hoped she would forget about his offer of reciprocity. 

"It's lame compared to that," he muttered.

"Oh come on!" Nancy said. "I just bared my soul to you and you're going to wimp out?"

Billy was _not_ a wimp. He was many things, but a wimp was not one of them.

"Okay," he said, licking his lips nervously. "Uh. Fuck."

Could he trust Nancy? He felt like he could trust her to not go spreading his business around the entire town, but could he trust her to stay friends with him after he told her what he wanted to tell her? He didn't know for sure. But he had to make the leap. 

"I'm gay."

Nancy got a surprised look on her face for a second. To her credit though, it faded quickly.

"You are? I mean, not that I care, but...you _are_?"

"Yeah," Billy said, taking a deep breath. "You know, it's funny. I've never actually said that out loud before."

"How does it feel to say it?" Nancy asked. 

"Fuckin' scary," he said before he could stop himself. 

Billy thought it was scary to admit that he was gay and Nancy had fought an actual monster last year. Holy shit, maybe Billy _was_ a wimp. 

"You don't have to be scared," she said softly. "You can trust me. I won't tell anyone."

"Tommy and Carol already spread that shit around," Billy laughed bitterly. "I thought I was hiding it so well, but they saw right through my bullshit."

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think many people believed them. And you know," Nancy said. "Jonathan and Steve wouldn't care either. So if you want to tell them, just know that you're not going to be losing any friends."

"I'm not huh?"

"No way," Nancy smiled. "You're stuck with us, Hargrove."

Billy smiled back. 

"So," Nancy said slyly. "You have a crush on anyone?"

Billy laughed out loud. 

"I do, as a matter of fact."

" _Who?_ "

"Not telling you," Billy stuck out his tongue. "I said 'secret for secret', Wheeler. Singular. Not plural."

"You dick," Nancy joked, playfully shoving him. 

* * *

That night, Billy laid awake again, thinking over everything Nancy told him about Hawkins lab. He thought about what she said about the Demogorgon. How it didn't have a face. The coyote-thing that bit him didn't have a face. 

He should have told Nancy about it. But it sounded like she had enough to deal with. 

There was one other person Billy wanted— _needed_ —to tell; especially since that person seemed to have some experience fighting monsters.

Billy dug out the scrap of paper that Steve's number was written on from his book bag. It was 12 in the morning. Billy didn't have his own phone line, but he did have a receiver hooked up in his room, so he wouldn't need to use the phone in the kitchen and risk someone hearing him. Still though, he would need to be as quiet as possible and make it a quick call. The last thing he needed was for his dad to burst in and catch Billy calling some boy in the middle of the night. 

Billy punched in Steve's number, praying that Steve had his own line. Hoping that Steve wouldn't think he was insane for calling at this hour.

"Hello?" came Steve's voice, hushed. 

"Hey," Billy whispered. "It's Billy."

"You okay?" Steve asked. 

"Yeah," Billy said. "Sorry, I know it's super late but I...I need to tell you something."

"What's up?"

"It wasn't a coyote." The line went silent. For an awful moment, Billy thought that Steve had hung up. "You there?"

"Yeah, sorry, I'm here," Steve said. "Um...fuck. Okay."

"I'm sorry to call you so late about this."

"Don't worry about," Steve said softly. "I'm glad you did."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Billy said, beyond relieved at Steve's response. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course," Steve said. "Goodnight."

"'Night."

Billy hung up and fell back onto his pillow. He had no idea what the next day would look like. What the next _month_ would look like. But at least he knew that he wouldn't be facing it alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up:
> 
> Chapter Title: "We were having such a good time together."


	7. "We were having such a good time together."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday, November 8, 1984— Billy goes on a drive with his dad.
> 
> "The thing that fucked Billy up almost more than anything else was that his dad wasn't all bad all the time. Billy's life would be so much easier if Neil was consistent. Even if he was consistently an asshole."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't planning on this to be an individual chapter, but at second glance thought the content warranted it. 
> 
> Content warnings: 
> 
> Referenced child abuse, abusive dynamics, emotional abuse, toxic families, death of a dog, homophobia, alcoholism, referenced sex between a teenager and an adult (Billy and Nate Perez), pedophilia, grooming

The thing that fucked Billy up almost more than anything else was that his dad wasn't _all_ bad _all the time._

Sure, Neil Hargrove was an asshole. Sure, he often verbally berated Billy and called him names and had strict rules he expected Billy to follow. Sure, he slapped him around and shoved him into walls and furniture. Sure, sometimes an open-palmed slap turned into a backhand, and sometimes a punch with a closed fist, and sometimes a well-aimed kick to the ribs and stomach, and sometimes if Billy had done or said something to _really_ piss him off, his dad would beat him raw with a belt. 

But it wasn't like that every day. 

Most days, the tension in the Hargrove household was steady at a low simmer. Most days, Billy was almost positive that if he could just keep his head down, do his chores, do his homework, keep Max out of trouble, just _fucking behave himself_ , everything would be fine. Everything would be balanced. Everything would be calm and the tension that was always there, _had_ always been there and always _would be_ there, would keep at that steady, low simmer instead of boiling over. 

During these times, Neil just wasn't that awful to be around. When the tension was low, Billy would sometimes even sit on the couch with him and the two would watch a baseball game on TV, even though Billy _hated_ baseball. But he would watch it anyway because he was watching it with his dad. There was a part of him, deep down, that just really wanted his dad to like him. And maybe if he could just pretend to like baseball, maybe his dad would.

But Billy wasn't perfect. He wasn't even close to being perfect. So there would be times when everything and everyone in the house was steady and calm and Billy would manage to fuck everything up with a poorly timed snarky joke or sarcastic remark. Or he would miss his curfew by just a few minutes. Or he would forget to take the trash out or complain about having to babysit Max or just look at his dad the wrong way. And then his dad would hit him and it would put ruin everyone's day. 

Sometimes, though, Neil thought Billy's snarky, sarcastic jokes were funny. And sometimes Neil wasn't too upset about missed curfews and full trashcans. But Billy never knew what reaction Neil would have to anything he did. Everything he did at home felt like high-stakes gambling. If he jokingly said he was going to drop out of high school to join the Hare Krishnas, his dad would either snort and say something like "Yeah, have fun with that one, son" or he would smack him upside the head with a harsh "Grow the hell up, William."

Billy's life would be so much easier if Neil was consistent. Even if he was consistently an asshole.

* * *

After dinner on Thursday, Neil caught Billy right before he was about to retreat to his room for the night. 

"I need to pick up some tools from a coworker across town," he said. "Feel like going for a drive?"

"Sure," Billy said, caught completely off-guard. "Yeah, okay."

"Get your shoes on then," he said. "We're leaving now."

Ignoring Max's subtle look of toned-down bewilderment, Billy jammed his feet into his sneakers and pulled his denim jacket on as he followed his dad out the door and toward his pickup. He wasn't in the car with his dad very often. Even before Billy got his Camaro, his dad almost never drove him around. When he was a kid, his mom would drive him everywhere. To and from his friends' houses for playdates, to the beach, to the library, to Balboa Park. She would let him sit in the front seat of her Volkswagen Beetle and they would sing along to the Grateful Dead and Laura Nyro and The Mamas & The Papas. The only place she didn't drive him to was school, but that was because it was in walking distance of their house. She always walked him to and from Clara Barton Elementary every day though. 

His mom left one week after his tenth birthday. After she was gone, Billy walked to and from school with Amy. They took the bus together in middle school, but then as soon as they were in high school, Amy's older sister Stephanie would give them a lift in her Fiat. Stephanie was three years older than them and was a terrible driver, but a free ride was a free ride. 

Beyond school buses and his (former) best friend's older sister, Billy was usually able to procure a ride without involving his dad or Susan when she entered the picture. It wasn't that he was vehemently against asking Susan for a ride; it was just that at a certain age, it was decidedly uncool to be in the car with your mom, or replacement mom as it were. 

As for asking his dad for rides...Billy had always avoided asking his dad for things, even when he was little. From an early age, it was just clear to him that his dad wasn't interested in being involved in his personal or social life.

The last time Billy had been in the car with Neil, just the two of them, was when they were on their way to buy the Camaro. The second to last time Neil had driven him anywhere was when he had broken Billy's collarbone and drove him to the emergency room, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, eyes glued to the road so he couldn't look at his fifteen year old son in the passenger seat, holding his swollen shoulder and fighting back tears. 

"You got your shot today, right?" Neil asked him now. 

"Yeah," Billy said. "I went after school."

Neil nodded. 

"How many more do you have left?"

"Five."

Neil nodded again. And then said: "It's good that you're on top of it. Very responsible."

Saying that Billy was behaving responsibly was the closest his dad ever got to complimenting or even validating him. Ever. Billy took what he could get. 

"Yeah well," Billy said. "The alternative is rabies." 

Neil snorted. It was the closest he ever got to laughing at Billy's snark. 

"When I was kid we had a dog. Captain," Neil said. "I told you about Captain before, right?" Billy shook his head. "Captain was a great dog. Half lab, half...something. Your Uncle Jack and Aunt Rose and I taught him all kinds of tricks. He was a clever mutt. And so gentle with your Uncle Rick, since he was little when we had him. Even your grandma loved him."

Billy's grandmother, Zsófia Hargrove (née Kovács), had been a mean and scary Hungarian immigrant who used to scream at people walking by her house and had, on more than one occasion, spanked Billy and his cousins with a wooden spoon. It was hard to imagine that woman loving _anything_ let alone a dog. 

"Anyway, Captain was smart, but he was still a dog," Neil continued. "He got into it one night with a raccoon and it bit him. He was foaming at the mouth not three days later. Your granddad had to shoot him in the backyard before he could bite any of us."

"Shit, Dad," Billy breathed. 

Neil was quiet for a moment before continuing. 

"He got him in one shot," he said, as if it softened the blow of talking about a long-dead pet. "Even piss drunk, my father was a hell of a shooter."

Billy had no firsthand memories of John Hargrove, Sr. and Neil rarely ever talked about him. He had died when Billy was, like, three. Cirrhosis of the liver. 

"How's basketball going?" Neil asked. Neil never asked about basketball. Billy strongly suspected the question was just an easy way to change the subject. 

"It's good."

"Think you're good enough to get a scholarship?"

This was new. Neil had never even broached the subject of college with Billy before. 

"Maybe," Billy said carefully. 

"Maybe?"

"I mean, obviously I'll try to get one next year—"

"None of this 'maybe' 'I'll try' bullshit," Neil said, his tone suddenly sharp. "You're either good enough for it to count, or you need to quit, get a job, and start thinking about a trade you can learn."

"Yes, sir," Billy said softly. 

"You need to take your future seriously, Bill."

"Yes, sir."

Neil pulled up in front of a house and put the truck in park. The two got out to meet an older couple on the driveway. 

"Neil," the man greeted pleasantly, shaking Neil's hand. His eyes fell on Billy. "This your boy?" he asked with a smile. 

"He is," Neil confirmed, returning the smile. He clapped a hand on Billy's shoulder. It was performative, just like it probably was when he touched his shoulder at the hospital when Billy was bitten by _that thing_. Billy might have found it unnerving how Neil could so easily pretend to be a loving father in public, but the fact of the matter was that Billy was used to it. "Billy, say hello to Mr. and Mrs. McKinley."

"Nice to meet you," Billy smiled and shook Mr. McKinley's hand. Mr. McKinley was shorter than Neil—maybe around Billy's height—but heavier with a prominent beer gut and a splotchy red nose. His grip was just on the edge of too firm and Billy smelled alcohol on his breath. Billy wondered if Mr. McKinley hit his wife or his kids if he had kids. Billy wondered that about pretty much every older man he met. 

"Well aren't you a handsome young man," Mrs. McKinley said with a wide smile. She had a thick Midwestern accent. "You have a girlfriend, Billy?"

"No, ma'am," he said, lips tight and upturned. "Not yet."

"Bet you're a real heartbreaker," she added with a wink. 

_No, ma'am_ , he thought, _It's just that red lips and a pair of tits don't really do it for me. A hard cock and a hand around my throat on the other hand..._

His dad, bizarrely, saved him from any further conversation with Mrs. McKinley by walking back over with a plastic bin filled with various tools. He put the box in Billy's hands and said, "Stick this in the truck, son, we're about ready to go."

Billy put the box in the truck's flatbed, all the way in so it was secure against the outside of the cab. He leaned against the door, watching his dad hand Mr. McKinley some cash, shake his hand, and walk over. Billy waved goodbye and climbed in. 

"That man is constantly drunk on the job," Neil said when they had driven a few yards. "Every time we share a shift I see him drinking out of a flask."

"That's not good," Billy said because he couldn't think of anything else to say about that.

"No, it's not good," Neil agreed. "He says he gets the DTs if he doesn't drink. You know what the DTs are?"

Billy nodded. 

"I heard Mrs. McKinley ask if you had a girlfriend. Do you?"

"Uh, no," Billy said. "I don't."

"Anyone catch your eye?" 

Billy turned his head to look at Neil. Neil had only ever asked him about girlfriends once. Back in California, back in the days when he and Amy were attached at the hip, his father point-blank asked Billy if she was his girlfriend. 

Billy had told him yes. He was thirteen years old and the day before his dad asked him that, he had made out with Ryan Brune in Ryan's treehouse. Billy had been scared shitless. 

His dad had almost seemed relieved though, when he said that Amy was his girlfriend. So relieved that he left Billy alone about it. So relieved that when Billy started high school, he extended his curfew, thinking that Billy was just out late at night necking his girlfriend, like any other red-blooded American male. 

Obviously, Neil had no idea what Billy had really been up to. Had no idea that when Billy was three months shy of his fifteenth birthday, he had met Nate Perez for the first time at a punk show that he and Amy had sweet-talked their way into. Obviously Neil was ignorant of the fact that every time Billy would say that he was going on a date with Amy, Nate would pick him up three blocks away from his house and take him to dark, smoky dive bars and music venues. 

Nate had been so nice in the beginning. He would buy Billy drinks and records and t-shirts from the gigs they went to. He had taught Billy the best way to drink different kinds of liquor and how to give a blow job without choking. Nate didn't actually fuck him until he had turned fifteen, but in the three months before, they had become so physical that Billy had hardly even felt like he was a virgin when they finally went all the way. 

Nate was twenty-six. He liked to tell Billy that he was so mature for his age. 

"There are a few girls, I guess," Billy muttered.

Neil nodded.

"Listen," he said. "I'm not going to tell you that sex is just for marriage. I was your age once. I know how it is."

Billy's stomach dropped. Was his dad seriously trying to have this conversation with him?

"You just need to be careful," he continued. "Women lie about being on the pill all the time, so if you're going to have sex with some girl, you need to use a condom. Pulling out doesn't work. You understand?"

"Yeah," Billy said quickly. "Yes, I understand."

_Please, please stop talking, please stop talking, please_

Neil, blessedly, dropped the conversation. Neil had never talked about sex with Billy. Never sat him down and gave him The Talk. Billy didn't think that he had ever even _heard_ his dad say the word "sex." Billy had gotten the majority of his sexual education from his peers, who had gotten it from their older siblings and sometimes their parents. In his freshman year health class, the teacher demonstrated putting a condom on a banana and then turned on the projector to show photos of herpes, chlamydia, and gonorrhea. 

He had looked at porn for the first time with Ryan Brune when they were thirteen. Ryan had stolen one of his father's skin mags and one of his beers, Billy had stolen one of Neil's cigarettes, and then the two climbed into Ryan's tree house, intending to share the stolen beer and gawk at nude women. And they did. But then, somehow, they ended up kissing. _To practice for when we have girlfriends_ , Ryan had said. Billy had gone with it, secretly thrilled because Ryan had soft hair and softer lips. They made out for a bit, and then Billy had the distinct realization that Ryan might have just been practicing for a girlfriend...but Billy sure as shit was not. 

Neil and Billy rode on in silence for a few moments. Then Neil pressed Play on the truck's tape deck. The opening notes of "Aja" by Steely Dan floated through the the speakers. Neil liked Steely Dan. And Eric Clapton. Billy had always avoided listening to both, but he was glad for the break in silence. 

"When do you start playing games?" Neil asked. "For basketball," he clarified.

"Next month," Billy said carefully. "Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'?" Neil asked, his tone on the edge of irritation. 

"You want to go to my game?"

"Of course I do," Neil said tightly. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"You've never been to any of my games. Ever."

Nor had Neil ever gone to Parent-Teacher nights, or elementary school choir performances, or that weird reenactment of the Scopes Monkey Trial Billy had to be in last year for history class. 

"Well, Billy, I've had to work double shifts for the last six years to keep a roof over your head, so that doesn't leave a lot of time to go to your basketball games, does it?" Neil snapped. 

Neil had been pulling that particular guilt trip for years whenever Billy even mildly complained about something. Pulling the "I work my ass off to give you a good life" card. It always worked though. It always made Billy feel like an ungrateful brat. It worked especially now at this moment, because for the first time in what seemed like forever, Neil was showing even a modicum of interest in Billy's life and Billy was looking that gift horse right in the mouth.

And suddenly, Billy was hit with a horrifying and overwhelming thought: what if his dad was spending time with him because he was sick? What if his dad didn't have a lot of time left and was trying to cram in as much parenting as he could before he died? 

Jesus Christ, was his dad _dying_?

"Is everything okay?" Billy asked before he could stop himself. 

" _What_?"

"With you," Billy stumbled over his own words. Trying to phrase his question in a way that wouldn't just make the situation worse. Trying to keep the tension at that steady low. "Like... are you..."

"Spit it out, William."

"Shit, Dad, I don't know, are you _sick_ or something?"

"Am I ' _sick or something_ '? No, I am not _sick or something_. Why would you ask me that?"

Neil pulled into their driveway and put the car in park. He turned to look at Billy, waiting for his answer. Billy shrugged. He couldn't look his father in the eye. 

"You think I'm asking about your basketball games because I'm dying?" Neil asked harshly. "Is that it?"

Billy didn't respond. From the corner of his eye he saw Neil shake his head and drag a hand over his mouth. 

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" Neil said. "I take you on a drive to spend some time with you on a school night and you think it's because I'm _dying_? What, am I not allowed to want to spend time with my son?"

Neil didn't wait for Billy to respond. 

"You know that my own father never even wanted to be around us, right? You know that? You know that your grandfather used to spend entire days getting so hammered he couldn't even tell his own children apart? Couldn't even hold down a job. Your Uncle Jack and Aunt Rose and I had to start working when we were nine years old. And even then it was a miracle if we could manage to keep the lights on for more than two months in a row. Do you even realize how easy you have it?"

Billy felt his throat tightening. God, he was such an asshole, such an ungrateful little shit. No wonder his dad never wanted to spend time with him and probably hated him. No wonder his dad hit him, he fucking deserved it. 

"Jesus H. Christ, Billy," Neil said. "We were having such a good time together tonight, and then you had to go and ruin it." Neil sighed heavily and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Get in the house."

Billy got out of the car and followed his dad into the house. No one was in the living room or the kitchen. From down the hall, he heard Max's music playing and the faint sound of the shower running. Neil immediately went over to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He chugged about half of it standing in front of the open fridge before he noticed Billy standing there, watching him. The two stared at each other for a moment. 

"Dad, I'm—" Billy started quietly. "I'm sorry."

Neil's eyes narrowed. Billy felt his own eyes prickle and his throat constrict even more. 

"What, you gonna cry now, Billy?" he said. Billy swallowed and looked away. "Go to bed before I _give_ you something to cry about."

Billy did what he was told. Before he closed the door to his bedroom, he heard Neil pull out another can of beer from the fridge. 

His dad didn't hit him. But Billy kind of wished that he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: 
> 
> "You like sci-fi right?"


	8. "You like sci-fi, right?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday, November 9, 1984; Saturday, November 10, 1984
> 
> Billy had fucked up before. He'd fucked up plenty of times before. But this time was different. They weren't in their familiar concrete terrain of San Diego; they were in Hawkins, Indiana, where the woods were thick and literal monsters roamed free. If Max was hurt because of him—fuck, if Max died because of him—Billy would never forgive himself.
> 
> Chapter Highlights:  
> —Billy and Max get into a huge fight  
> —Max sneaks out when Billy is supposed to be watching her (the "find Max" scene)  
> —Billy finds Max...along with three other kids and Steve...in a house where the walls are littered with scrawly drawings  
> —Billy finds himself getting dragged into some crazy, science fiction shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy this is an absurdly late update, but if you're still here...I thank you from the deepest depths of my soul. 
> 
> Content warnings:
> 
> Sibling fighting, child abuse, referenced underage sex between a minor (Billy) and an adult, referenced sexual assault.

Max knew not to go into Billy's room, just like Billy knew not to go into hers. It was the unspoken contract between siblings, no matter if they were related by blood or by marriage: do not enter each other's rooms unless invited. Their bedrooms were supposed to be their own space. It was especially important for siblings to respect that when you had parents who either didn't knock (Neil) or did that move where they would knock but come in before you could say either "come in" or "just one second" (Susan). And especially when one parent was a violent borderline-alcoholic and your bedroom was the only place in the entire house where you felt even a little bit safe and secure, even though the door's lock didn't always work, and God, you just needed it to be yours and yours alone. 

Which is why Billy reacted the way he did when he came back inside the house Friday afternoon after mowing the lawn to find Max in his room. Reading his notebook. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Billy demanded. Max looked up at him, startled. She was sitting on his bed. Reading. His. Notebook. The notebook where he wrote short stories. The notebook where he made little doodles. The notebook where he wrote down dumb little love-sick half sentences like "getting lost in earth-brown doe eyes" and "smile like the skies opened up." And some fragments like "fanged flower face" and "constellation bruise" and the initials "S.H." (in earlier pages, "N.P."). Stupid shit like that that Billy would _never_ in a _million years_ voluntarily show anyone. Like, Billy would rather nail his own hand to a tree than let anyone read his notebook. 

Max, at least, had the grace to look guilty. 

"Sorry, I..." Max stammered. "I was looking for some tape to put up some pictures in my room."

"And you thought you'd find some in my notebook?!"

"You left it open on your bed!" Max said. 

"So?!" Billy raised his voice. "It's my room, Maxine! I can leave my things where I want, it's not an invitation to, like, go through my shit!"

"I wasn't 'going through your shit'," she said hotly. "I barely even read anything in your stupid notebook anyway!"

"Bullshit you didn't!" Billy shot back. "You've always been a nosy little shit, Maxine. That's probably why your stupid friends dumped you already!"

It was a low blow. And truth be told, Billy had no idea why Max seemed to be on the outs with her new friends. But accuracy was never really the point of fighting, was it?

"Screw you!" Max yelled as she stormed out of his room. "It's not like you have much of a life these days, either!"

"Yeah, 'cause I got stuck babysitting your dumb ass!"

Max flipped him the bird over her shoulder. Billy spotted a roll of scotch tape sitting on his dresser. Clearly Max hadn't looked too hard for it. Billy snatched it up and stormed over to Max's room.

"Here's your tape," Billy snarled. He chucked the tape at her. Hard. It nailed her square in the forehead. Billy might have felt bad about it later, but at the moment, he just didn't. 

"Don't throw shit at me!" Max snapped. 

"Have fun taping up your Ralph Macchio cutouts," Billy mocked. "Hope _Tiger Beat_ doesn't lose interest."

"Have fun writing your lame-ass love poems," she shot back. "Hope whatever girl you're chasing likes them, Mr. "earth-brown doe eyes"."

"Screw you, you friendless bitch!"

Max grabbed the item on her dresser closest to her—a souvenir paperweight from Hollywood— and threw it at Billy. He dodged it, but it still hit his bicep before crashing to the ground. 

"Are you for real?!" he gasped. 

"You started it!"

"I threw _tape_ at you! Not a fucking paperweight! And anyway, _you_ started it!"

"You've been acting like a total dick to me all day!"

Had he been? Maybe. Actually probably. Billy couldn't pin down a reason why he had been a dick to her that morning, on the ride to school, and on the ride home from school. Maybe it was because he was pissed off that he had to spend another weekend at home under house arrest with Max instead of going out and hanging with people his own age–maybe having some one-on-one time with Steve. Maybe he'd been an anxious and stressed out mess since the night That Thing bit him and since learning that there were more of Those Things in Hawkins and that Nancy and Jonathan were trying to expose the lab that let them loose _right now._ Maybe he was pissed off at his dad for being such a dick to _him_ for his _entire life_. Maybe Billy was angry at himself for...well, any number of things really. And maybe Max was the easiest and closest target to take it out on. 

"Oh, well, I'm _so sorry_ that I'm not totally stoked that I'm being forced to hang out with you all weekend," he said. "Okay? _So very sorry_ that I'm not, like, excited to be grounded because _you_ were out too late with your little nerdy friends."

"You know what?" Max said, inching closer to him, her hands clenched into fists. "It's not my fault your dad is such an asshole to you! It sucks, but we both have to deal with it, so stop taking your shit out on me!"

"Oh, we 'both' have to deal with it?" Billy shouted. "Last time I checked he wasn't smacking _you_ around every time _you_ screw up!"

"You screw up plenty on your own, Billy!" Max yelled back. "I only missed curfew _once_. You used to miss curfew _all the time_!"

She was right. In San Diego, when Billy had started fooling around with Nate, he had started to make a habit of breaking his curfew. It got worse after That Party, although he only stayed out _all_ night the once, when Neil broke his collarbone when he finally came home. 

"You think my dad'll give a shit about curfews when he finds out you're still hanging around Lucas Sinclair?! Jesus Christ, Maxine, how fucking _stupid_ are you?!"

"You know what?!" Max screamed. "I don't even fucking care what he thinks! And if you weren't such a pussy you'd stand up to him already!"

Before he knew what he was even doing, Billy grabbed the nearest object in Max's room and stomped down on it. A splintering _crack_ rang out. 

It was her skateboard. Billy had snapped Max's skateboard right at the end. 

The two of them stared back and forth at each and at the broken board in utter, shocked silence. 

They heard the front door open. 

"You two better be doing your homework and not watching TV," Susan's voice carried from the doorway and down the hall. 

Billy's heart thudded in his chest. He felt like he was going to be sick. Max grabbed the skateboard and flung it under her bed. 

" _Get out,_ " she mouthed, her face hardened, furious. Billy rushed out of her room and into the bathroom. He locked the door, turned the water in the sink on and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, making it just in time before his stomach turned and expelled everything in it. When he was done puking, he flushed and splashed cold water on his face. He couldn't look at himself in the mirror. 

_You fucking asshole,_ he thought, _You fucking piece of shit you goddamn fuck-up you—_

He couldn't get the sound of the wood breaking under his foot out of his ears. He rinsed his mouth and retreated to his bedroom. He dug his walkman out and grabbed his nearest cassette (The Cramps). He sat down on his bed, bringing his knees up to his chest, blasted the music so loud his ears vibrated, and willed himself not to cry. 

* * *

Dinner that night would have been tense, but Max and Billy had learned long ago that it was better to hide their quarrels from their parents. So they acted as normally as they could. Neil and Susan were none the wiser. 

* * *

The next day, Saturday, was not any better. Neil and Susan were, blessedly, gone—had left early to run errands out of town and told Max and Billy they would be home by five. Fine by Billy—because of stupid little Maxine, all he had going on that day was getting his _fucking rabies shot_ because _fucking Maxine_ had made him check out a noise in the backyard. He told Max to just wait at home while he went to the hospital to get injected; she had agreed. 

_Good, now I won't have to listen to you cry like a little baby_ , she had grumbled.

 _I don't fucking cry, Maxine,_ he had snapped back, _Just try not to burn the house down._

And he _didn't_ fucking cry, _thank you very much_. He took that jabbing, burning shot in the stomach like a _man_ and not like a _pussy._ But then again, _men_ didn't pick fights with their thirteen-year-old sisters, did they? 

He stopped for gas on the way home. When he was inside the station, he reached for a bag of Reese's Pieces to bring home as a peace offering. But something else caught his eye as well: a flyer. With a photo of a shirtless man on it. It was a flyer for a gay bar. And this gay bar was only thirty minutes away from Hawkins. 

Billy's palms sweated as he looked at the flyer. Steve Harrington might have been interested in being his friend, but that's all he wanted from Billy. Billy was sure of it. And he had to accept that and move on. And what better way to move on than driving to this out-of-town gay bar where he was _sure_ to get in? He checked to make sure the gas station cashier wasn't looking before stuffing the flyer into his pocket. 

He paid for the gas. And also for the bag of Reese's Pieces. 

* * *

He accidentally left the candy in his car when he got home. But when he got in, Max was blasting Blondie, so fuck it and screw the peace offering. 

* * *

He spent the rest of the afternoon psyching himself up for that night. Going for a run around the neighborhood. Lifting weights to make his muscles pop. When his muscles popped he looked older and more mature—hopefully that would be enough to convince any bouncer or bartender that Billy was of legal drinking age instead of the jailbait sixteen-year-old he actually was. 

The doorbell rang when Billy was in the middle of his set. Weight lifting required steady concentration. He yelled at Max to get the door, even though Billy was closer to it. He wasn't totally done with being petty. 

_Max, are you getting that or what?_ He yelled. 

_Okay!_ Max screamed back.

_Swear to God, Max!_

* * *

Eight o'clock rolled around and his dad and Susan were still not home, even though they _fucking told him_ they would be home by five. Billy had pretty much shut himself in his room for the whole day after his workout, only leaving to take a shower. If he was going to actually go to this bar, he needed to force himself into the right mindset. Needed to push down all of his insecurities and self-doubt so he could break out of whatever semblance of a comfort zone he had. 

He had never gone to a bar alone before. How could he have? Every time he had gone to a bar or a club San Diego, it had been Nate who had brought him, and every time, Nate had either known the bartenders and bouncers, or had snuck Billy in through a side door. This time, Billy would probably have to flirt his way in and flirt his way into getting served. 

But Billy had never really had trouble with being enticing to older men, whether it was Nate or those two randos at the cruising spot. So what exactly was he worried about?

He blasted Metallica as he got dressed in his one of his nicer pairs of jeans and a red button-down shirt, and styled his hair the way he _knew_ looked good. He lit up a smoke to calm his nerves. 

He wasn't exactly sure what it was that he was hoping would happen at this bar. He was fairly confident that at least one guy would be interested in him, and maybe he would make out with someone for a bit. But beyond that? 

Billy didn't want to have sex with anyone that night. God, he wasn't even a hundred percent sure he wanted to have sex ever again. But he had this niggling feeling that if someone at this bar wanted to have sex with him, he wouldn't say no. Attention felt good. Having someone be interested in you, even if it was just for a moment, felt good. 

Maybe if he let someone fuck him that night, it would put him another step away from That Party and another step away from Nate. Maybe he was just feeling a little gun-shy after that whole thing and maybe he just needed to get back on the horse so he could move the fuck on. 

He put some cologne on his crotch, just for the hell of it. 

Yup, as soon as his parents came home and relieved him of his babysitting duties, he was going to go out to this bar and maybe get laid. It was a solid plan. He would tell them he was going out on a date, and they would more than likely believe him. 

His door knob jiggled. His lock was actually working for once. 

_Go away, Maxine,_ he thought. 

"Billy!" Susan's voice sounded through the door. His parents were home, fucking finally.

"Yeah, I'm a little busy in here, Susan," he said. 

"Open the door," his dad's voice boomed. "Right. Now."

Fuck. 

Billy opened the door to find his dad and stepmother standing in front of him; Susan looked worried and his dad looked pissed. 

"What's wrong?" Billy asked. 

"Why don't you tell us?" his dad answered. _What the hell?_

"Because I don't know!"

"We can't find Maxine," Susan said. 

"And her window's open," his dad added. 

_Oh God. Oh no. No no no._

"She probably, I dunno," Billy tried to shrug it off, "went to the arcade or something."

He hoped to God or whatever that Max was at the arcade. Or at a friends house. Or something _normal_ that didn't involve whatever the fuck bit him. Or, _fuck_ , kidnapped or murdered or something unspeakable. He needed to move. He went over to his closet to grab his leather jacket. 

"You were supposed to be watching her," Neil said. 

"I know, Dad, and I was," Billy said with his back turned, putting his coat on. "It's just that you guys were three hours late, and, well, I have a date. I'm sorry, okay?"

"Is that why you've been staring at yourself in the mirror like some faggot instead of watching your sister?" Neil said in an eerily calm tone. 

Billy heard Max's voice reverberate in his head: _if you weren't such a pussy you'd stand up to him already._

"I have been watching her all week, Dad!" he said loudly. Neil's eyebrows shot up at his tone. "If she wants to sneak out, that's her problem, alright? She's thirteen years old. She should't need a full-time babysitter!"

He turned his boombox off. And then Neil grabbed the front of his jacket and slammed him against the wall, pinning him there. Billy heard a small, almost inaudible gulp of breath from Susan. 

"What did we talk about?" Neil asked softly. Billy didn't answer. Neil slapped him across the face and then grabbed his jaw to force him to look at him. Billy tried to steady his breath. His eyes stung. _Do not start crying, you pussy, come on._

"What. Did. We. Talk about?"

"Respect," Billy said tightly. "And responsibility."

"That is right," Neil said. "Now apologize to Susan."

"I'm sorry, Susan," he said. 

"It's okay, Neil, really—" Susan tried to say. Bless her. 

"No, it's _not_ okay! Nothing about his behavior is okay!" Neil cut her off. "But he's going to make up for it. He's going to call whatever whore he's seeing tonight and cancel their date. And then he's going to find Maxine like the good, kind, respecting brother that he is. Isn't that right Billy?"

Billy didn't trust himself to speak. Over his dad's shoulder, he could see Susan giving him such a look of pity he wanted to cry. 

" _Isn't that right?"_ Neil yelled. 

"Yes, sir," Billy croaked. 

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Yes. Sir." Billy said more loudly. He could feel the tears forming. God damn it. 

"Find Max."

Neil stormed out of the room. Before she followed him, Susan mouthed _I'm sorry._ When he was sure he was alone, Billy let the tears fall. _You're such a fuck-up._

* * *

He found Lucas Sinclair's address in the Hawkins phonebook. It was a shot in the dark, but he had to take it. When he pulled up to his house, he waited a a minute to catch his breath and make sure his eyes were dry before ringing the doorbell. _Please, Max, please be here, please be safe, please be okay._

A little girl answered the door. She looked up at him with one eyebrow cocked. 

"Can I help you?" she asked in a sassy tone. It caught Billy off-guard. 

"I'm...is your mom home?" he stumbled. 

As if on-cue, an older woman—presumably Lucas and this little girl's mother—came to the door. She was pretty and put-together right down to her makeup and coiffed hair, even in the pair of worn jeans and baggy sweater she was wearing. Billy hoped that Max was here, but he could _tell_ the Sinclairs didn't have any guests over. In the back of his mind, he hoped that Dr. Sinclair was at work. He didn't think he could handle seeing him right then.

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am," he said. "But I'm looking for my little sister. Her name's Maxine, she has red hair, she's like...this tall," he gestured Max's height against his own body. "She's friends with Lucas, so I thought maybe...." he trailed off. 

Mrs. Sinclair's expression softened. 

"I'm sorry, she's not here," she said. "Lucas isn't either."

"Do you know where he might be?" Billy tried. "We're new in town and Lucas is kind of Max's only friend so maybe they're together?" 

Billy's voice was quivering. He hated it. 

"He might be at the Wheeler's house," Mrs. Sinclair offered with a small smile. "That's kind of the designated hang spot for Lucas and his friends. Do you know where that is?"

"Yeah," Billy said. "Yes, I do. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Mrs. Sinclair. "When you find them, can you tell Lucas to come home, please?"

"Sure," Billy said, managing a small smile. 

* * *

_It's fine_ , he thought to himself in the car, _Max is fine. Max is at the Wheeler's house just hanging out or whatever. She's totally safe. She's not in the trunk of some creep's car, she's not bleeding out on the side of the road, and she's not being mauled by some fucking monster, you psycho, she's fine, she's okay, she—_

She wasn't at the Wheeler's. Mrs. Wheeler answered the door in her fucking bathrobe and told her that not only was Max was not there, but _her_ son, Mike, wasn't home either.

Mrs. Wheeler had thought Billy was there for Nancy. Had apparently gotten some impression from Billy when they briefly met when he was studying at their house that he was interested in her daughter romantically. It was an easy mistake to make. Nancy was a beautiful girl—you didn't have to be straight to see that. Like, Billy had eyes. 

But Mrs. Wheeler had also sensed that something was wrong. Had seen the way Billy's hands were shaking. Had asked him if he was okay before she led him into the kitchen and made him drink a glass of juice and eat a cookie (like he was a fucking kid) while she wrote down the address of yet _another_ house Max might have been in—Jonathan's house. Because Jonathan's little brother Will was friends with Lucas and Mike and maybe also with Max. 

She told him to be careful driving because there weren't a lot of street lights near the Byers' house. And asked him to tell Mike to come home. He promised he would. 

"Are you sure you're okay, honey?" Mrs. Wheeler asked as he walked out the door. 

_No, I'm not._

"Yes, of course," he smiled hollowly. "Thanks again, Mrs. Wheeler. Have a good night."

He cried again in his car as he started to drive to the Byers' house. He had had _one_ job to do today: watch Max. But he failed. Because he was a selfish asshole who wanted to go out to get attention from older men because he was a _hopeless fucking faggot._ And now Max was God-knows-where doing God-knows-what. Billy had fucked up before. He'd fucked up plenty of times before. But this time was different. They weren't in their familiar concrete terrain of San Diego; they were in Hawkins, Indiana, where the woods were thick and literal monsters roamed free. If Max was hurt because of him—fuck, if Max _died_ because of him—Billy would never forgive himself.

When he finally made it to the Byers' house he practically launched himself from the car. But he was struck by a familiar figure coming out of the house. 

It was Steve. What _the fuck_ was Steve doing here? 

"Hey," Steve said as he got closer. "I, uh, wasn't sure if I should call you, but, uh, here you are now."

Billy couldn't speak for a second. 

"Steve, what the hell is going on?" Billy demanded. "Is Max in there?"

"Yeah, she is," Steve nodded. "All the kids are."

"All the kids," Billy repeated. "So are you, like, babysitting?"

"I guess, kind of," Steve laughed a little. "Listen, there's a lot going on, so just come inside, okay?"

Billy didn't move or speak. 

Steve sighed and moved closer to him. He put a hand on his shoulder and looked Billy in the eye, his expression soft and apologetic. 

"I wanted to call you," he said squeezing his shoulder. "You definitely deserve to know what's happening."

"What do you mean?" Billy asked, his heart quickening. "What's happening? Steve, _what did my sister get into_?"

"Try to calm down, okay?" Steve said steadily. He squeezed his shoulder some more, almost massaging it. In literally any other scenario, Billy would probably be savoring the contact.

"I'm going to explain everything, so just come inside with me, Billy, okay? Just come inside." Steve said, keeping his hand on his shoulder and leading him into the Byers' house. 

It was a mess inside. Like...a mess. Scrawly drawings lined the walls into some sort of configuration. Billy was reminded unpleasantly of his grandmother and how towards the end of her life, she had taken to hoarding newspapers and magazines and phonebooks. 

But. Max was there. Max was there in one piece. Standing in the living room with Lucas and two other kids, one of whom was probably Mike Wheeler. So was the other kid Will Byers? He didn't look anything like Jonathan.

Max and Billy stared at each other in silence for a moment. Steve and the other kids stared at Billy and Max staring at each other. 

"Hey," Max finally said softly. 

"Jesus Christ, Max," Billy breathed. He closed the gap between them and pulled her into his arms. He didn't care that he was being watched. Max hugged him back tightly. They didn't do this a lot. Like, probably never, in fact. No one really hugged in their family. They just didn't live in that kind of home. 

Billy pulled away from her, just a bit, still holding onto her arms so he could look her in the face. 

"What the _fuck_ , Maxine?" he asked. 

"You know that thing that bit you?" she said. Billy groaned. What the hell did That Thing have to do with _anything_?

"There are more of them," Max said. 

Billy's eyes widened. He looked over at Steve, who was running his hands through his hair. 

"There are," Steve confirmed. "There are...a lot of them. And they're all connected to something else."

"What 'something else'?" Billy asked. His heart was pounding. He couldn't believe that Max was tangled up in this shit. That _he_ was now tangled up in this shit.

"It's called the Mindflayer," the kid who was maybe-Will said. He had a slight lisp. "Those things are called Demodogs. Max said that one of them bit you last week. There's a dead one right here if you don't believe us. My name's Dustin, by the way."

Billy gaped at him. He walked over to where Dustin was pointing. He forgot to breathe for one, two, three moments. The dead creature in the living room most definitely resembled the thing that bit him. But this one was a lot bigger. He felt the blood rushing from his face. 

Holy shit, did Max go against one of these fuckers?

"What the hell is a Mindflayer?" Billy said when he found his voice. 

"Sit down, okay?" Steve said. He had moved back to Billy's side and was now guiding him to the couch. "It's a lot to take in, but we're going to explain everything."

Steve sat down next to Billy on the couch; Max sat on his other side. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike sat on the floor in front of the them. It was like they were gathered around a campfire getting ready to tell ghost stories. But these weren't ghosts; they were actual flesh-and-blood monsters. For a second, he totally forgot about his dad and stepmother at home waiting for him to bring Max back into the house. Somehow, this, whatever _this_ even was, seemed to be a hell of a lot more important. 

"You like sci-fi, right?" Max said with a small smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: "Do I get extra points if I hit them all in one go?"
> 
> Billy, Steve, Max, Lucas, Dustin, and Mike go into the tunnels to kick some demodog tail.


	9. "Do I get bonus points if I hit them all in one go?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Saturday, November 10, 1984)
> 
> "Hey."
> 
> Billy looked at Steve, hands on his goggles, ready to pull them over his eyes.
> 
> "Try not to die down there, okay?" Steve's lips pulled up into a crooked smile, his voice low enough so that the kids wouldn't hear. "I kinda like you."
> 
> Billy felt his mouth twitch up into a smile of his own. He put his goggles on and watched Steve walk back and drop down into the tunnel. If either of them died down there, he was going to be so pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes down into the tunnels. 
> 
> Content warnings: Demodogs, vomit, child abuse

Fifteen minutes after Billy arrived at the Byers' house, he was fully filled in on everything and being handed a pair of goggles, a bandana, and a flashlight.The plan was simple: go into the Upside Down tunnel system that could apparently be accessed via a pumpkin farm, find the "hub", drench it in gasoline, light it up, and resurface before they—Billy, Steve, Max, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and Dustin Henderson—burned to death along with it, while simultaneously avoiding and/or fighting demodogs. 

So simple. So totally and completely simple. 

Steve was armed with a wooden baseball bat with nails sticking out of it, Billy had grabbed an axe from the Byers' shed, and Lucas was wielding...a slingshot. 

"He calls it a wrist rocket," Max corrected halfheartedly. They were in the hallway together, away from the group, facing each other and leaning on opposite walls, both pairs of arms crossed over their chests. Steve was helping Dustin stuff the dead demodog in the freezer. Billy thought that that was a shitty thing to do to Mrs. Byers. Sure, he had never met her, but she had gone into another fucking dimension to find her son and was now about to force a monster out of him, so she seemed like a pretty cool lady who didn't deserve to come home to that. 

"I don't give a shit what he calls it," Billy said. "Your little boyfriend thinks he's going to go head-to-head with a monster _with a slingshot_?"

"Dustin says he's really good with it," Max shrugged. 

"Oh, well if _Dustin_ says so I guess we have nothing to worry about."

Max looked away from him. She was still mad about their fight; Billy could tell.

"He's not my boyfriend," she muttered. Because _that's_ what mattered here. 

"You can't do this again, Max," Billy said. Max looked back at him. "You can't fuckin' run away like this and not tell me where you're going or what you're doing. Okay?"

"Are Mom and Neil pissed off at you?"

"Jesus Christ, Max, I don't give a shit about our parents!" Billy exclaimed. "I just spent the last hour thinking you were dead!"

Max's expressed softened. Just a little bit. 

"Well, I'm not, so..." she said. She walked back into the living room to rejoin the group. Billy dragged a hand down his face and followed her. 

"Ready to go?" Steve asked. Billy nodded. They were taking his car—he had volunteered to drive. All of them, the whole gang, double checked that they had their goggles, bandanas,

_"Our personal protective equipment," Dustin proclaimed_

and their cans of gasoline. There was no backing out. There _couldn't_ be any backing out. The fate of the world _literally_ depended on them working together and not fucking up. 

No pressure. 

* * *

Billy drove quickly but carefully, following the directions that Steve was giving him from shotgun. Max, Lucas, Mike, and Dustin were squished together in the back seats. Billy wondered what would happen if they got pulled over. What they could possibly say to a cop to explain away the weapons, gas cans, _personal protective equipment,_ and the gaggle of middle school nerds riding without seat belts. 

Billy laughed softly. He couldn't help it. 

"What's so funny?" Steve asked. Billy could hear the smile in his voice. It made him smile even more. 

"Nothing," he said, still kind of laughing. "It's just...typical Saturday night."

Steve laughed. 

"Pretty far out, huh?" Steve said. 'Far out'. Steve just said _far out_.

"It's, like, _so_ totally _far out, maaan,_ " Billy drawled in a throaty voice. Steve laughed louder. 

"Like, so _totally trippy, maaan,_ " Steve answered back, in his own mock-hippie voice. 

In the rearview mirror, Billy saw Mike roll his eyes. 

"Guys," Max suddenly said urgently. She leaned forward, between the front two seats, and pointed her finger through the windshield. Billy's laughter died in his throat when he saw what she was pointing at. There were three demodogs on the road, maybe two hundred feet away, staring down the car. 

"Shit," Steve said, gripping his bat. 

They wouldn't be able to take on three demodogs. Two, maybe, since he and Steve were both adequately armed. But not three. Not even with Lucas' _wrist rocket_. Unless...

Billy pressed down on the gas more. 

"Max, lean back," he ordered. They were accelerating towards the demodogs. Their feet were planted on the road. 

"What are you doing?" Dustin gasped. 

"What do you think?" Billy asked, to no one in particular. "Do I get bonus points if I hit them all in one go?"

He floored it and sent his Camaro flying towards the 'dogs, ignoring the kids screaming in the backseat, and barely registering Steve cheering him on. Two of them didn't react in time—the car barreled into them with sick, wet _thud_ and then went _over_ them; Billy felt his car smear their bodies across the tar like roadkill. 

The other demodog disappeared into the woods.

Billy brought the car down to a slightly less insane speed. 

"Holy _shit,_ that was great," Steve said, not masking the awe in his voice. He clapped him on the shoulder. Billy couldn't help but smile. 

"Your brother is so cool," he heard Lucas say softly to Max. He saw Max grin just slightly through the rearview mirror. 

"He has his moments," she said. 

* * *

They got to the tunnel opening without any further demodog sightings. The plan was for Steve to go in first, then the kids, and then Billy. They would keep that formation inside; it was the best way to keep everyone safe. They all took a moment to tie their bandanas around their mouths and noses and put their goggles on. 

"You ready for this, Blondie?" Steve asked him. Billy was grateful that his bandana was covering half of his face; without it, he was sure that Steve would be able to see him blush at the nickname, even in the dark. 

"I'm so ready," he said, in what he hoped was a confident voice. Steve nodded and started toward the opening. Then paused and walked back towards Billy. 

"Hey," he said, leaning in slightly and pulling his own bandana down a bit. Billy looked at Steve, hands on his goggles, ready to pull them over his eyes.

"Try not to die down there, okay?" Steve's lips pulled up into a crooked smile, his voice low enough so that the kids wouldn't hear. "I kinda like you."

Billy felt his mouth twitch up into a smile of his own. He put his goggles on and watched Steve walk back and drop down into the tunnel. If either of them died down there, he was going to be so pissed.

 _He meant he likes you as a friend, dumbass,_ he told himself. _And he only kind of likes you as a friend._

* * *

The tunnels were like something out of Dante's _Inferno._ That was the only thing Billy could think of to compare them to. Just...miles of long, dark, cold, damp _hell_ with the threat of monstrous creatures around every corner. 

Billy gripped his axe and his flashlight and stayed on high-alert as he followed the kids, who were following Steve, who was following the map and keeping them all at a hustled pace. He kept a close eye on Max, who was sticking by Lucas' side and sneaking furtive glances back at him. 

Finally, they got to a point where a bunch of the tunnels met.

"Alright, Wheeler," Steve said. "Think we found your hub."

"Let's drench it," Mike said. 

They did. They sprayed and squirted the gas all over the hub. When the tunnels were thoroughly saturated, when their gas cans were empty, it was officially Go Time. Billy pulled out his lighter, flanked by Steve and Max.

"Alright, you guys ready?" he asked. 

"Light her up," Max said. Billy opened his Zippo, sparked it, and tossed it into the gas. The fire was immediate and huge. Something was shrieking. 

"Let's go! Go! Go!" Steve yelled. 

They ran through the tunnels. Mike tripped, tangled by some vine-like thing. He screamed. Billy brought his axe down on the vine, freeing him. As soon as Mike got up, they heard another shriek. It sent chills down Billy's spine. It sounded exactly like That Thing—the _demodog_ —that bit him. 

"Guys, we gotta go, we gotta go _now,"_ Steve urged. Another shriek—the demodog was close. And then it was there. 

It stared down the group. Billy pushed Max behind him and brought his axe up high, ready to cut the fucker's head off; beside him, Steve was in an identical position with his bat. 

Suddenly, Dustin pushed in front of them, ignoring his friends' pleas for him to not do anything stupid. Steve grabbed Dustin's shoulder, trying to pull him back. 

"Dart?" Dustin said, moving forward. 

_What the fuck?_

"Dustin, get back!" Max said. 

"Trust me," Dustin said. He turned his attention back to the 'dog. 

"Hey," he said cautiously. "It's me. It's just your friend. It's Dustin." 

He crouched down in front of it. Dustin was officially crazy. Or maybe brave. Probably both. 

"You remember me?" Dustin said. "Will you let us pass?"

The 'dog opened its face and snarled. Steve and Billy moved forward with their weapons, ready to kill it. Dustin put his hand up to stop them. He apologized to the 'dog about...something about a storm cellar. He pulled out a goddamn Three Musketeers Bar, unwrapped it, and tossed a piece to the 'dog—to _Dart._ As Dart ate the candy, Dustin urged them to pass it. He put the rest of the bar down on the ground and rejoined the group. Billy made sure he stayed in front of him. 

This Dustin kid had some fuckin' balls. 

They ran through the tunnels to get back to where they started, to the hole where they dropped through. They heard the shrieks of demodogs gaining on them. Billy grabbed Max and lifted her up so she could pull herself out of the tunnel while Steve lifted Lucas. Then Billy lifted Mike and Steve lifted Dustin.

Then it was them. And a swarm of demodogs rushing towards them. 

"Shit!" Steve yelled. A scream lodged in Billy's throat and stayed there, unable to escape. He was going to die down here. He and Steve were going to die down here, with the kids screaming and watching it happen from above. 

But they didn't die. Instead, the swarm of 'dogs rushed past them, almost knocking them off-balance. They grabbed onto each other to avoid falling and getting trampled to death. And then it stopped; the 'dogs were done. It was quiet. 

Was it over? 

They pulled themselves out of the tunnel. Max threw her arms around Billy's waist, almost bringing him down to his knees on impact. He hugged her back. Jesus, have they _ever_ hugged each other more than once in a single day? 

* * *

Billy drove them back to the Byers' place, pulling up just as another car did; out of that one emerged Nancy, Jonathan, and a woman who Billy assumed was Mrs. Byers. Jonathan was carrying a kid wrapped in a blanket. 

"Will!" Mike cried out. He, Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Max rushed over to them.

"Guys, he's really wiped out, okay?" Jonathan said wearily. "Let's just go inside and chill for a sec."

Jonathan and kids went inside. Mrs. Byers squeezed Nancy's arm and whispered "thank you" before pulling her into a tight hug. She turned to look at Steve and Billy, who were leaning heavily side by side on the Camaro. 

"Hi, Steve," Mrs. Byers said with a small smile. 

"Hey, Mrs. Byers," Steve said back. "Everything go okay?"

"That fucker is out of him," she nodded. She was drenched in sweat and had dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she'd been through hell. She _did_ go through hell. She turned her attention to Billy. "I don't think we've met."

"This is Billy Hargrove," Steve supplied. "He was with us tonight."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Byers," Billy said. 

"I'm usually a lot nicer," Mrs. Byers said, "but right now I need to go inside and be with my boy. It's nice to meet you, Billy. You'll have to come over sometime when things aren't so..." Mrs. Byers trailed off, unable to think of the right adjective for the night. 

"Totally," Billy nodded, offering her a smile. 

Mrs. Byers walked into the house; Nancy moved closer to Steve and Billy. Her makeup was smudged around her eyes and her hair was in a messy ponytail. 

"How'd it go?" Steve asked her. 

"We exorcised a demon from Will Byers' body," Nancy said flatly. 

"Like, 'the power of Christ compels you' style?" Billy asked. Nancy exhaled a small laugh. 

"More like," she said. "we blasted him with heating lamps and I burned him with a red-hot poker."

"Holy shit, Nance," Steve said. 

From inside the house, Mrs. Byers' voice rang out, shrill and indignant:

_"JESUS **FUCKING** CHRIST!" _

"Oh fuckin' hell," Steve sighed. 

"What did you do?" Nancy cocked an eyebrow.

"Dustin wanted to preserve that dead demodog," Steve groaned. "And I kind of helped him put it in the freezer."

"You let this happen?" Nancy gave Billy a pointed look. 

"I...I was not involved in that specific activity..." Billy said at the same time as Steve nodded and said "Yes, yes he did. He let it happen."

Nancy smirked at the both of them. 

"While I'd love to talk to the two of you about the importance of personal and group responsibility, I've had to pee for the last, like, hour, so I'm going to go inside and take care of that," she said, walking away. 

"Bye, have fun," Steve called out to her. 

"Be safe!" Billy added. 

"Don't talk to strangers!" Steve tossed in. Nancy flipped them the double bird behind her back; Billy and Steve collapsed into laughter. 

"Man, I can't believe I get to be friends with her," Steve said. 

"She's one cool chick," Billy agreed. 

"Hate to be That Guy," Steve said. "but do you have any cigs?"

"Always," Billy nodded. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his pack of Marlboros, which was somehow still in his pocket. Small miracles. Instinctively he patted his other pocket for his lighter before realizing that he had tossed it into the tunnels. 

"I got you," Steve said around his cigarette. He pulled out his own lighter and lit Billy's cig before his own. They smoked in silence for a second. Nicotine hit differently after a near-death experience. 

"You look really nice tonight, by the way," Steve said suddenly. Billy was caught off guard and wondered what Steve was talking about. Then remembered that only a couple hours before, he had dressed himself with the intention of trying to get into a bar to get picked up by an older man. He was so, _so_ glad that he ended up here instead. 

"Thanks," Billy smiled. 

"Were you supposed to go on a date tonight?" Steve asked. 

"No," Billy took a drag of his cig. "I, uh, I was actually going to try to get into a bar."

"You serious?" Steve asked. Billy laughed and nodded. God, his plan just seemed so ridiculous now. "What kind of bar? 'Cause no offense, but you definitely don't look old enough to get served."

Billy was about to give Steve some snarky, half-baked answer when another vehicle pulled up to the Byers' house. It was a pickup truck...with the Hawkins Police Department logo on it. _Shit._

"Shit," Billy said. "Steve there's a cop here."

Steve looked over as a burly man climbed out of the truck, followed by a little kid. Steve sighed in relief. 

"Don't worry, he's with us," he said. He called out to the man. "Hey, Chief."

The man nodded in acknowledgement. He had his hand on the kid's shoulder, guiding her along. 

"Why don't you go inside and lie down?" he said to her softly. "I'll be with you in just a minute, okay?"

"Okay," the girl nodded. She glanced at Steve and Billy for a second before heading inside the house. The man—the chief—turned his attention to Steve and Billy. Steve had told him not to worry, but Billy couldn't help but feel a knot forming in his stomach. 

"Can I bum one of those?" he asked them, pointing at the cigarettes. Billy nodded quickly and fumbled the pack as he handed it over. The chief gave a quick _thanks_ as he pulled a cig out and handed back the pack. 

"You new around here?" he asked Billy.

"Uh, yeah," Billy said, trying not to stutter over his words. "Yes, sir," he quickly corrected himself. 

"Jim Hopper," the man introduced himself. "Hawkins Police chief. What's your name?"

"Billy Hargrove. My sister Max is inside." 

Chief Hopper nodded around a drag. 

"And how'd _you_ get involved in this?" he asked. 

"I'm friends with Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan," Billy shrugged, trying to keep his voice steady. "And Max is friends with the kids, I guess."

"Billy was bitten by a demodog last week," Steve added. 

"That right?" Chief Hopper asked, arching an eyebrow at Billy. 

"A small one," Billy clarified. 

"Listen," Chief Hopper said, finishing up his smoke and crushing the butt under his boot. "I know this is all very weird and cool, but you boys need to keep all of this under wraps. You got it?"

"Yes, sir," Billy and Steve said in unison. 

"No one outside of our little circle can know _anything_ about this," he continued. "Not your parents, not your girlfriends, not your priest. You keep your heads down and you stay out of trouble until this all blows over. That clear?"

"Yes sir," they repeated. 

"Good," Chief Hopper nodded and then looked over Billy's shoulder at something. "You run over one of those 'dogs tonight, son?"

"Y-yes, sir," Billy nodded. "How'd you guess?"

"You got the head of one stuck in your wheel well there."

Billy cautiously turned to his car to look at the wheel well. On autopilot, he reached out and pulled the demodog head out from where it was jammed in. He stared at the thing in his hands. It was so mangled and crushed but it was still recognizable. He felt his heart pound in his ears. The knot in his stomach grew and twisted. 

"Jesus, that's so grim," Steve managed to snort. 

Billy's head filled with fog. 

"You should stuff it and stick it on your mantle like a trophy," Chief Hopper added. 

Billy tasted copper. His hands shook. 

"Hey, kid, you okay? You're lookin' kind of green there..."

Chief Hopper moved closer and put a large hand on Billy's shoulder. Billy doubled over and puked on the ground. Some of his sick, to his utter shame and horror, splashed on the chief's boots. 

"Shit, Billy, you okay?" Steve asked. 

"I'm so sorry," Billy stammered out. "I'm...I'm sorry." He couldn't look at either Steve or Chief Hopper. 

"It's okay," Chief Hopper said. "It happens."

"I'm so sorry," Billy repeated, like it was the only words he knew. 

He threw up in front of _Steve_ and _Chief Hopper_. He threw up _on_ Chief Hopper. There was no coming back from that. God, he was going to die of embarrassment. 

"It's okay, kid," Chief Hopper said again, in a light tone that Billy totally didn't deserve. "I'm a dad; I've been puked on before."

Billy was positive that if he ever threw up on Neil's shoes, he would backhand him. Hopper's hand was still on Billy's shoulder. 

"Gonna go inside to check on El," Chief Hopper said, mostly to Steve. "You guys gonna be okay here?"

"Totally," Steve said. Billy leaned against his car and tried to will his heart to stop beating so fast. Or just stop entirely. Whichever. 

Steve walked away for a moment to his own car and came back with a bottle of water. He handed it to Billy with a small smile.

"Thanks," he muttered. He rinsed his mouth out before taking a few small sips. 

"Last year," Steve said, "I peed the bed, like, five times after everything went down."

He was trying to make Billy feel better. It was sweet. Steve was so sweet. 

"Yeah?"

Steve nodded and gestured for Billy to keep drinking the water. 

"You gonna be in trouble with your folks for being out so late?" Steve asked. Jesus, Billy had nearly and blissfully forgotten about Neil and Susan. 

"Yeah," Billy snorted humorlessly. "My dad's gonna fuckin' kill me."

Steve looked like he was going to say something else, but Nancy and Jonathan emerged from the house. Nancy was carrying four glasses. 

"Heard you guys were total badasses tonight," Jonathan said as a greeting. "The kids wouldn't shut up about it."

"How's Will, man?" Steve asked. 

"He's sleeping it off," Jonathan said. "El is too."

"The others are cleaning up," Nancy added. "They're really good kids. When they're not being total pain in the asses." 

Steve, Billy, and Jonathan scoffed in agreement. Nancy handed them each a glass and went into Jonathan's car. She returned with a bottle of vodka and poured everyone a shot. Or a generous approximation of a shot since she was free-pouring. She lifted her own glass. 

"To saving the world," she toasted. "And to the hope we never have to do it again."

They clinked their glasses and downed their liquor. It burned Billy's throat. He liked it. 

"Your parents home?" Jonathan asked Steve. He shook his head. 

"They're visiting my aunt and uncle in Chicago."

"Want to sleep over here?" Jonathan offered. 

"I gotta take Dustin home."

"So drop him off and come back here," Jonathan said, as if it was obvious. 

"Steve, seriously, don't go home to that empty house," Nancy agreed. 

"Yeah, Steve," Billy added, even though he had nothing really to contribute. Still, Steve shot him a grin and elbowed him lightly in the ribs. 

"Your mom won't mind?" Steve asked. Jonathan shook his head. 

Billy wished he could stay the night at Jonathan's. But he had to bring Max home, where they would face the wrath of their parents. And then he realized something and couldn't help but laugh. 

"What?" Jonathan asked. 

"I just realized I still have to get the rest of those goddamn rabies shots."

Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve—his _friends_ —looked at him for a moment in shock and then started laughing right along with him.

* * *

"What are we going to tell them?" Max asked in the car. They had driven in silence up until then. They were almost at their house. Billy pulled over and was quiet for a minute before saying: 

"The truth, I guess."

Max's eyes widened. 

"Are you serious?" she gasped. 

Billy leveled a Look at her. 

"No, Maxine. We take this shit to our graves. Got it?"

Max nodded. 

"We can tell them I snuck out to play DnD with the guys," she said. "And I lost track of time."

Billy nodded. 

"And when I found you, we left right away. But...but I hit a deer with my car," he added, thinking to account for the darkened blood on the Camaro's hood. "And I got a flat tire. And it took awhile to fix because it's so dark out. And...and the hubcap had rolled down the road."

"What if Neil looks at your car though?" Max pointed out. "He's gonna see that your tire isn't new."

Billy looked in the backseat. The axe was still there—he hadn't remembered to return it. He grabbed it, opened the trunk, and pulled out his spare tire and tool kit. Then he swung the axe and popped his perfectly-fine tire for the sole purpose of replacing it. Max held a flashlight up and handed Billy the tools while he did it. 

They got back in the car. 

"I'm sorry about your skateboard," Billy said suddenly. 

"It's okay."

"No, it's not," Billy said. "That was a total Neil Move."

"I'm sorry too," Max said. "For...for everything. I don't want to fight with you like that anymore."

Billy's throat tightened.

"Me neither," he said. He restarted the car.

"For what it's worth, you're a really good writer," Max said softly. Billy tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying to force himself to let go of whatever anger was left over from the day before. 

They pulled up to the house. Neither of them moved to get out of the car. 

"I don't want to go in," Max said. Billy nodded. 

"Me neither," he said. "But we have to."

There was a light on in the living room. Billy looked at his watch; it was nearing midnight. Could have been worse, but it still wasn't good. 

"We just need to stick to the story," he said. Max nodded. The two of them got out of the car and trudged to the front door. 

Their parents were waiting for them in the living room. Susan looked angry, but relieved that they were home. Neil just looked angry. He silently pointed to the couch, a non-verbal command to sit. Billy and Max sat. 

"Well?" Neil demanded, looking directly at Billy. 

"It's my fault," Max piped up. "I snuck out to hang out with my friends. I didn't realize how late it was. It was wrong. I'm sorry."

"You had us worried sick, Maxine," Susan scolded. "We almost called the police. Don't you realize that there are bad people out there? Even in this town? There are _bad people_ who do _terrible_ things to children. To little girls. I _know_ we've talked about this before. Don't you remember that boy who disappeared in Iowa two years ago? Just _vanished_ without a trace and his mother is still looking for him?"

"I know," Max said quietly. "I'm really sorry, Mom."

"And you?" Neil asked Billy. "Exactly how long does it take to find your sister in a town this size?"

"Not that long," Billy said, looking down at his lap to avoid looking at his dad and stepmom. "I just...I hit a deer and..."

"You _what_?" Susan asked. 

"I hit a deer on the way back here. By accident," he said. "And I got a flat tire and...and it took awhile to change it out because it's so dark out and..."

"And the hubcap rolled down the road..." Max filled in. 

"Yeah," Billy nodded. "I'm sorry. I know it's late."

"You hit a deer and got a flat tire and that's why you're showing up at this hour?" Neil said flatly. Billy nodded. 

And then, for absolutely no reason except for the sheer ridiculousness of _everything_ that happened that night, Billy started laughing. He couldn't help it. He clasped his hands over his mouth to try to contain it. Max and Susan stared at him with nearly identical wide-eyed expressions, except Susan's was of total confusion and bewilderment and Max's was of absolute horror. 

Neil's expression did not change. He narrowed his eyes. 

"Are you high?" he boomed. 

"No," Billy managed to get out between giggles. "But holy shit, Dad, I really wish I was."

Neil slapped him hard across the face. It hurt but it did the trick; Billy stopped laughing instantly. Susan bit her lip and looked down. 

"Both of you go to bed," Neil ordered. "Now. We're going to church tomorrow morning."

Max rolled her eyes. 

"Watch that attitude, missy," Susan warned. "You're grounded for another week for sneaking out. Don't push it."

 _Don't push it._ As if Max ever got a punishment worse than being grounded. 

They silently went to their rooms and closed their doors. Billy stripped his clothes off and was suddenly overcome with how exhausted he was. Holy _shit_ was he wiped out. He was sure Max was feeling the same way. He didn't bother with pajamas—he just managed to pull on a pair of clean boxers before collapsing into bed and drifting off in a blissfully dreamless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boy who Susan refers to is Johnny Gosch, who went missing in Des Moines, Iowa in 1982. The case is currently cold but not closed. Read about it if you're interested in true crime!
> 
> Next up: "You call this staying out of trouble?"
> 
> Billy goes to school on Monday and realizes that even though he helped save the world over the weekend, he was still going to have to deal with Tommy Hagan and his friends being absolute douchebags to him. Wasn't high school just great?


	10. "You call this staying out of trouble?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything that Billy had been keeping contained for so long just seemed to bubble to the surface. Everything that Tommy had said about him, how he had basically outed Billy to the entire school, how he had turned almost the entire basketball team against him. But it went beyond Tommy and his bullshit. It wasn't just about Tommy—it was about his dad and his mom and Nate and every other asshole who had hurt him in the past. Every asshole that Billy had let hurt him in the past. Billy knew that starting that brawl with Tommy Hagan wouldn't fix everything that had happened to him...but maybe it would prevent those things from happening to him in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're seeing things from Hopper's point of view for a sec! 
> 
> Content warnings: Homophobia, bullying, fist-fighting, and child abuse*
> 
> *Like actually though: Neil beats the absolute shit out of Billy in this chapter. The beating itself isn't graphic, but the aftermath is a little bit.

After they had gotten home after that exhausting night saving the world, Billy and Max spent Sunday operating on near-complete autopilot. They had gone to Sunday Mass at Saint Vitus, finished the homework they didn't do on Friday and Saturday, and did their chores without being prompted by their parents. They barely spoke, even to each other. If Susan and Neil suspected that something was up, they didn't say anything; more than likely, they thought that Billy and Max were just exhausted from being out all night. It was good, in way: if they didn't talk, they couldn't accidentally let their secret slip. 

Monday rolled around. Billy went through the motions of normal daily living. He washed his face and tried not to think about the tunnels. He pulled his clothes on and tried not remember the feeling of a bandana covering his nose and mouth and the feeling of goggles pressing into his skin. When he and Max got into the Camaro to go to school, he tried really hard not to think about running over monsters in the middle of the road. 

He and Max were silent for the car ride, letting the wailing notes of a Mötley Crüe tape to fill the space. When they got to the school, neither of them moved to get out. Billy pulled out a cigarette and tried not to think about how he threw his lighter into a puddle of gasoline. He pushed in the Camaro's built-in lighter. He looked over at Max, who was looking at him. 

"Are you getting out?" he asked. 

"Are you?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm just going to smoke this first."

Max stared at him. Billy wished she would stop and get out of the car. 

"You're gonna be late," Billy said. Max didn't move. In the side mirror, he saw Jonathan park his car and watched Will get out. 

"Look, there's Will," Billy said. He lit his cigarette and took a long drag. "You should walk with him to class or something."

Max bit her lip. 

"Max, seriously, just go," he urged. "I'm just going to finish my smoke and then I'm going in, okay? Just...just go."

Max got out of the car and went over to Will. Billy watched the two start walking to the middle school together. He couldn't believe that Will of all people was going to school today. Like nothing happened. 

Steve pulled into the spot next to Jonathan's. He watched Steve and Nancy get out of the Beemer and join Jonathan. He finished his cigarette. He wondered if there was any chance his friends wouldn't notice his car or the fact that he was still in the car. He was going to get out and go into the school. He just wanted to let the current song finish up. When the song ended, Billy would go in. 

The song faded out. But the next one on the album was good too, so Billy would just listen to _that_ one and _then_ he would get out of the car. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone tapped on the passenger side window. It was Steve, flanked by Nancy and Jonathan. Billy rolled down the window. 

"Hey," he said. 

Steve opened the door and moved the front seat so that Nancy and Jonathan could climb in the back. When they did, Steve took a seat and closed the door behind him. 

"You okay?" Steve asked. 

"Mmhm," Billy nodded. "I'm just...listening to the rest of the tape."

The song ended and another began. Nancy and Jonathan exchanged glances; Steve kept looking at Billy. Billy's entire body felt tense, like his organs were vibrating and trying to burst out of his skin. His hands clenched the steering wheel. 

"Are we just...going in and going to school? Like....like nothing happened this weekend?" Billy finally. "Is that what we're supposed to do? Just...just act like everything's fine?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Nancy said. "It's what we did last year and it mostly worked out."

"'Mostly'. Great," Billy muttered. 

"It's a lot easier than it sounds," Jonathan shrugged. "Trust us."

"And eventually, it'll just get easier," Steve added. "It'll just be hard for a while. But, you know, you're not dealing with it alone. You have us."

Billy sighed and looked at Nancy and Jonathan and Steve. His friends. His friends that, honestly, he had only known for a very short time. But they were the friends that he could actually connect with on that deeper level that shared trauma creates. 

"Come on," Steve said. "Let's just get through this week."

Billy nodded. The four of them got out of the Camaro and walked into Hawkins High together to face the day, to face the week, and to face the rest of the year. 

* * *

Once Billy made it through the doors, it was shockingly easy to get back into the groove of normal high school life. Just like Jonathan said it would be. He walked to English with Nancy, turned in his Spanish homework, turned in his math homework and ignored Tommy Hagan making a show of staring him down and whispering something to Connor Dickinson. Got his biology test back and was pleasantly surprised that he got a A- (Nancy also got an A, which was less surprising). Spent his lunch period with his friends, comparing bio tests with Nancy, debating Jonathan about music, and teasing Steve about his basketball skills until Steve playfully kicked Billy under the table. Walked to history with Jonathan where they were greeted with a pop quiz about the Salem Witch Trials. Tried to get most of his homework done in study hall. Went to P.E. last period and then stayed in the gym for after-school basketball practice.

And that's where things fell apart. 

Because Tommy Fucking Hagan just wouldn't let up and leave Billy alone. And because he had apparently talked enough shit that five of their other teammates were now being dicks to Billy too. They wouldn't pass him the ball, they shoulder-checked him, tried to trip him up, and one or two of them even coughed out a "fag" when they got within earshot. 

"Just ignore them," Steve said during a break. He dug a water bottle out of his bag and handed it to Billy; he had brought two today. "They'll get bored and stop."

"Doubt it," Billy muttered. He took a swig of water.

"Want to fight them?" Steve asked neutrally. 

"Kind of."

"I'll back you up," he grinned. "I still have that bat in my trunk."

Billy snorted. 

"If I start a fight, I can say goodbye to any chance of a sports scholarship," he said. 

"Good point," Steve said. "Let me know if you change your mind."

Crush aside, he appreciated Steve's support. But there was no way Steve really understood what this was like for Billy. There was no way for a straight guy who had _everything_ to actually understand how goddamn crushingly awful it was to be essentially outed through rumors and to not even be able to defend himself because denial would just fuel the gossip and _not_ denying it would just confirm that the rumors were true, just confirm that Billy was the Faggy Homo Queer that Tommy and Carol were saying that he was.

Billy was fucked either way. He wondered if Steve would act any differently towards him if he knew that Billy really _was_ gay. If he would immediately stop being so friendly with him, stop being so playful, stop all casual physical contact. Billy really didn't want to find out. He _really_ didn't want to find out what Steve's reaction would be if he found out Billy _liked_ him, because there was no way in hell Steve would ever like him back and there would be no guarantee he would still be nice to him if he knew. 

Boys like Billy got killed for shit like this. 

Practice ended. Steve showered next to Billy like he always did. Billy wondered if Steve thought that if he didn't, Tommy and his friends would jump Billy in the shower. The thought had crossed Billy's mind more than once. He was a decent fighter, but _no one_ was a decent fighter against more than one opponent. 

Max was waiting by the Camaro when Billy and Steve walked out together. Billy felt a stab of guilt—he hadn't thought about Max and how she was coping with everything all day. He felt like a shitty brother. He probably _was_ a shitty brother. 

"See?" Steve said softly to Billy as they walked towards their cars. "Getting through the day was easy."

"I guess," Billy shrugged. 

"You guess," Steve laughed. He gave Billy's arm a light punch. "See you tomorrow, right?" 

"I'll think about it," Billy joked.

Steve laughed and turned his attention to Max. 

"How's it going, Max?" he asked. 

"Not too bad," she shrugged. "You?"

"Not bad. Just dealing with your dork of a brother," Steve teased. 

"He's dorkier at home when he thinks no one's watching," she smirked. 

" _Wow,_ " Billy drawled, a grin tugging at his lips. "Can't even count on family to have your back. I see how it is."

* * *

"How the hell am I low on gas already?" 

Billy looked down at the gas gauge in disbelief after driving for about five minutes. 

"Maybe because we siphoned a lot of it on Saturday?" Max guessed. 

"Yeah, you're probably right," Billy nodded after a brief pause. He pulled into a gas station-slash-convenience store and got out to pay. "Stay where I can see you, okay?"

There were only two other cars parked in the area: a Dodge minivan and a police cruiser. But as Billy was finishing up pumping his gas, another car pulled in: Tommy's Ford. Fucking perfect. 

"Fueling up the Fag-mobile, Hargrove?" Tommy called out, getting out of the car with Carole. 

"Jesus Christ, Hagan, can you just give it a rest?" Billy sighed. 

"Oh no, am I hurting your wittle feewings?" Tommy taunted. 

"Are you guys really so fucking bored that you have to make up bullshit rumors about me?" Billy raised his voice. 

"Is it bullshit?" Carol asked. ""Cause, you know, I don't think it is. And neither does anyone else. So, you know, you might as well just own up to it."

"There's nothing to own up to!" Billy lied. Max got out of the car to see what was going on. "Max, get back in the car."

"Aw, your baby stepsister thinks you need her help," Carol crowed. "That's so precious."

"Aren't you that girl who got caught giving that football player a blowjob under the bleachers?" Max snarked. 

"What the fuck did you say to me?" Carol demanded, moving a step towards Max. 

Oh _hell no._

Billy was by Max's side in an instant. 

"Take another step, Carol, I fucking dare you," Billy threatened. 

"You threatening my girlfriend, Hargrove?" Tommy snarled. He shoved Billy. 

Billy shoved him back, harder. Tommy took a swing; it barely clipped Billy's jaw. Billy's responding punch landed. Tommy stumbled backwards. He recovered quickly and barreled into Billy, knocking him onto the asphalt. He got a few punches in before Billy was able to flip them over. He slugged Tommy in his smug face, once, twice, three times. He vaguely heard Max and Carol yelling at them to stop. 

Billy didn't want to stop.

Everything that Billy had been keeping contained for so long just seemed to bubble to the surface. Everything that Tommy had said about him, how he had basically outed Billy to the entire school, how he had turned almost the entire basketball team against him. But it went beyond Tommy and his bullshit. It wasn't just about Tommy—it was about his dad and his mom and Nate and every other asshole who had hurt him in the past. Every asshole that Billy had let hurt him in the past. Billy knew that starting this brawl with Tommy Hagan wouldn't fix everything that had happened to him...but maybe it would prevent those things from happening to him in the future.

"HEY!" A voice yelled. 

Before Billy knew what was happening, two police officers were rushing towards them. Tommy got one last punch in before shoving Billy away and speeding off in his car, with Carol taking the wheel. 

Shit. 

One of the officers grabbed Billy and hustled him into the cruiser. Max was loaded in too. He wasn't sure if he was under arrest. They didn't cuff him and they didn't read him his rights, so he probably wasn't. But he was still totally screwed. 

* * *

Jim hadn't wanted to go in that day. He would have much preferred to stay home with El than go into the station. She had been so exhausted from closing the Gate at Hawkins Lab that she had slept pretty much all of Sunday and was still tired that morning when he left. Jim had radioed her twice to check in; she seemed okay, all considering, but still. He was worried about her. He was always worried about her. He used to be worried that she would leave the cabin to find Mike Wheeler and get caught by government agents. Now, he was worried that all the stress would make her sick. And Jim wasn't sure he could handle taking care of another sick kid. He told himself that even if she _did_ get sick from the stress and exertion, it would likely just be a cold, or the flu at worst. It wouldn't be cancer. 

Jim would throw down with God himself before he let another daughter of his get cancer. 

He looked at his watch for the hundredth time in the past hour. He could leave in thirty minutes. He pushed himself out of his desk chair and stretched. He went out to get a cup of water in the lobby. 

And saw Callahan and Powell leading Billy and Max Hargrove to a holding bench. Max looked fine. Billy, on the other hand, was sporting a black eye and a bloody lip.

"Caught him fighting in the gas station parking lot like a damn hooligan, Chief," Powell reported. 

"Fighting, huh?" Jim said. "Where's the other kid?"

"He, uh, got away, Chief," Callahan said sheepishly. 

"'Got away'. Excellent police work there, Callahan," Jim retorted. 

Billy wasn't cuffed; he was fairly sure Callahan and Powell had just brought him in for an official warning. They did that, sometimes, when a kid was caught breaking some minor law the first time; haul his delinquent ass down to the station and put the fear of God in him so that (hopefully) he learned his lesson. It worked most of the time. And it saved them all a ton of paper work. 

But Jim distinctly remembered telling that kid to stay out of trouble. Goddamn teenaged boys. Jim felt a surge of anger. He strode over to the bench where Billy and Max were sitting. Both kids looked up at him in wide-eyed fear. 

"You," Jim said to Billy. "My office. Now."

Billy followed Jim into his office. Jim closed the door behind him and motioned Billy to sit down; he took his own seat behind the desk. Billy's shoulders were hunched up and he was slouching, like he was trying to make himself physically smaller. He wouldn't meet Jim's eyes. 

"You call this staying out of trouble?" Jim demanded. "I gave you _one_ simple instruction. Just stay out of trouble until everything blows over. And you get into some fight in a parking lot?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Billy said softly. 

"You realize how stupid that was, right?" Jim continued. 

"Yes, sir."

"Anything else I should know about? You tell any of your friends about what you were up to on Saturday?"

"No, sir."

Jim nodded in relief. He observed Billy for moment. This kid was obviously scared shitless. Jim didn't blame him; he remembered getting dragged into this very police station more than once when he was Billy's age. 

"Did you start the fight or did you finish the fight?" Jim asked. 

"Officer Powell finished the fight," Billy muttered. 

The kid would _not_ make eye contact with him. Jim couldn't tell if he was being petulant or if he was just plain scared. Was Billy's tough guy look just for show? Did he have some weird social handicap? Was he still embarrassed because he threw up on Jim's shoes? For the life of him, Jim couldn't figure this kid out. Of course, he barely knew him. But still. 

"Okay, kid," Jim sighed as he stood up. He didn't miss the way Billy flinched; what the hell was that about? "Let's get you some ice for that eye and wait for your parents to come get you."

Billy's head shot up. 

"You don't have to call my parents," he said tightly. 

"You were brought into the police station for fighting, kid," Jim shrugged. "That's how it goes. You get a formal warning and your parents pick you up."

"Um, sir, my parents work a lot and I don't think they'll be able to pick Max and me up," Billy said, his tone getting desperate. "You really don't have to call them, do you?"

Jim raised his eyebrows. There was a knock on the door; Flo poked her head in. 

"Excuse me, Chief, we got a hold of Mr. Hargrove at work. He'll be here to pick up his children shortly," she said. 

"Thanks, Flo," Jim nodded. "Can you get Billy here an icepack for his eye?" 

Flo nodded and walked off. Jim watched the color drain from Billy's face. He tried not to read too much into it; no teenager on the planet would be excited for their father to pick them up from the station. Jim told himself that's all it was. 

* * *

Sitting between Neil and Billy in Neil's pickup truck, Max was so tense she felt like she wouldn't be able to move if her life depended on it. Every muscle in her body felt tight, from her jaw to her neck, all the way down to her toes. It was stupid; she wasn't the one in trouble here. And even if she was, Neil never hit her. She couldn't even imagine how Billy must have felt. He was stock-still and silent; his eyes held a vacant expression, like mentally he wasn't in the car with them.

On her other side, Neil was tense too. 

"You've done a lot of stupid things before, William," he said in an eerily calm tone. "But I've never had to pick you up from a jailhouse."

Billy didn't answer. 

"Is this the first time we're doing this or is it the last time we're doing this?" Neil asked. 

"Last time," Billy said so quietly it was almost inaudible.

"What was that?"

"It's the last time, sir," Billy said, a touch louder. 

"God help you if it's not."

Max dug her nails into her palms. As they turned onto their street, she prayed to whatever god that was listening that her mother was home. Neil rarely got too rough with Billy when her mother was home. Sure, he might slap him around a few times and maybe shove him into a wall. But Neil only threw punches and kicks when her mother was out and the last time he belted Billy when she was home was when he was fourteen. 

Their driveway was empty. 

* * *

As soon as they got in the house, Neil grabbed Billy by the scruff of his neck and forced him into his bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

"You're picking fights here now, huh?" Neil demanded. "You think I like being called by the goddamn police to come pick up my idiot, delinquent son? Huh? Answer me!"

"No sir," Billy muttered. 

There was nothing he could say or do. His dad was going to beat the shit out of him and there was absolutely nothing that he could say to prevent it from happening. He just hoped he wouldn't break any bones again.

"Think you're some kind of tough guy?" Neil ground out. Billy looked down and shook his head. Neil surged forward and slammed the back of his hand across his cheekbone. Billy yelped and stumbled backwards. Neil grabbed the front of his jacket and reared his fist back. 

* * *

Max sat on the floor of her bedroom with her headphones over her ears, her Walkman blasting Madonna as loud as it could. It didn't drown out the sounds of flesh hitting flesh and flesh hitting the floor coming from the other side of the wall. She cupped her hands and pressed her headphones firmly against her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. 

* * *

When it was over, Billy was curled up on the floor, tears leaking out of his squeezed shut eyes, stomach and ribs screaming in pain, breath shaky, and his whole body trembling. Neil knelt down next to him. Billy flinched, bracing himself for another blow. 

"My father would have done a lot worse and make me sleep in the shed if I ever pulled what you did," Neil said lowly. "Consider yourself lucky."

Billy found himself nodding, hoping, praying that it was really over.

"Pull yourself together and clean yourself up," Neil said, standing. "Your stepmother will be home soon."

Neil would tell Susan that Billy had gotten into a fight and was taken to the police station for a warning. Susan would believe him because Billy had gotten into a few fights in California. When Susan saw Billy's black eye, split lip, and bruised torso, she would believe Billy when he told her that the guy he fought was bigger than him. Susan would believe Max when she confirmed that the fight had been brutal. 

They would all move on quickly and they would never bring it up again. That's how it was in their house. 


	11. "One, two, Freddy's coming for you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Friday, November 16th, 1984)
> 
> Billy, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan go to see "A Nightmare on Elm Street" the night it premieres at The Hawk. Afterwards, Steve and Billy hang out at Lake Jordan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 84 years since I updated this. Quick note: In the original version of this fic, I made a note that Neil and Susan got married when Billy was 13 and Max was 10. After some thought, I'm tweaking that history slightly so that Neil and Susan got married when Billy was 11-going-on-12. It just makes sense to me in terms of their relationship that they've known each other for more than three years (and also in the Season 3 flashback, Billy totally looks younger than 13 when Neil introduces him to Max). I've made the necessary adjustments to reflect this change in earlier chapters. 
> 
> Content warnings: Referenced child abuse, internalized homophobia, referenced child abandonment, referenced miscarriage
> 
> Highlights from this chapter include:  
> —Billy, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan getting to do normal teenage things  
> —Billy and Steve having a heart-to-heart while stargazing at Lake Jordan  
> —Billy and Steve kissing for the first time  
> —Billy accidentally calling Susan "Mom"

By Friday, Billy's face wasn't quite as swollen and his torso wasn't hurting anymore. He had gone to school on Tuesday perversely grateful that he had gotten in a fight with Tommy the day before and could just use that to explain away the bruises. He was perversely grateful that Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve believed that version of the truth, or at least believe it enough not to pry. Life went on; it always did.

At the end of the day on Friday, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan met up with him at his locker so they could all walk out to their cars together. They had been doing so every day that week that he and Steve didn't have basketball practice. It was nice. Like they were fully integrating Billy into their circle.

"Are you grounded this weekend?" Steve asked. Billy wasn't sure if he was referencing the late night he and Max had a week ago, or the brush with the law that he just had.

"Shockingly no," he said. His dad usually didn't ground him after a beating. Usually. 

"Great," Jonathan said. "There's this movie that opens tonight at The Hawk. _A Nightmare on Elm Street_. It looks pretty good. We were thinking of going to the eight o'clock show."

"Hmm," Billy hummed. "I'll think about it."

"As if you had other plans," Nancy teased. 

"You don't know my life, Wheeler," he cocked an eyebrow. 

"What, you gonna try to get into a bar again?" Steve smirked. 

"Wait, what?" Nancy raised her eyebrows. 

"You don't know his life, Wheeler," Steve laughed. 

* * *

Billy checked the clock again: seven o'clock. He was freshly showered and had spent the last twenty minutes trying to figure out what to wear to the movies. He was nervous and felt like a fucking lame-ass idiot for being nervous. Last weekend he had killed monsters; tonight he was just going to the movies with his friends. And his crush. Who was also his friend and who would never return his feelings, so what was the point of being nervous if he knew nothing was going to happen. 

It was just going to be a normal Friday night. He was a normal sixteen-year-old getting ready to do a totally normal activity with his friends and then just go about living a normal life. He tried to repeat that thought in his head like a mantra. 

He pulled on his favorite pair of jeans—the ones that were _just_ tight enough to toe the line of showing off his body without looking like he was begging for attention. He was about to put his red button-down shirt on, but put it back in his closet for the sole reason that Steve had seen him in that shirt last weekend.

 _Stop being such a girl, you fag,_ he thought. 

He put on a dark blue shirt on instead, keeping the top three buttons undone. The weather had been rapidly cooling in Hawkins. He was probably going to be cold. He decided he didn't care. Plus, his dad wouldn't be home until late that night, so there was no risk of being called a faggot as he walked out the door. So.

The other great thing about his dad not being home was that the mood around the house was a lot lighter. It wasn't anything overt or obvious, it was just the general atmosphere. Billy wasn't as tense; even a little more jokey with Max and Susan. He and Max didn't have to watch their language as much. Even Susan seemed just slightly happier and more relaxed when it was just the three of them in the house. 

Billy noticed it. He'd been noticing it for years. And it scared the shit out of him. 

"Do you have money for the movie tonight?" Susan asked as Billy was heading out. 

"Yeah, I do," he nodded. He still had money saved up from the various odd jobs and tutoring gigs he had back in San Diego, but he was running low. He needed to find something here soon. 

"Here," Susan handed him a five-dollar bill. "In case you go out with your friends after."

"Thanks," Billy smiled and pocketed the cash. 

"Have fun," she said, with a smile of her own.

* * *

The Hawk seemed to be the place to be on a Friday night in Hawkins. It was a multiplex theater boasting four screens, three showing new films ( _A Nightmare on Elm Street_ , _Toy Soldiers_ , and _Perfect Strangers_ ) and one classic one ( _Snow White And The Seven Dwarves)_. Throngs of people, ranging from teenagers to middle-aged adults were there. It was probably the most crowded building Billy had been in since he moved to Hawkins. It was nice—kind of like he was living in a city again instead of a small town in the middle of Nowhere, Indiana. He used to go to the movies back in San Diego fairly often—one of the local theaters had a promotion every third Saturday of the month where anyone under eighteen could get a ticket for a dollar. There were a few times when he and Max would spend the entire day at the movies, usually during the summer if the weather was unbearably hot. They would buy a ticket for an early afternoon show and then sneak into another room to watch another movie for free, and then do it again a second and maybe third time. 

They got their tickets for _Nightmare on Elm Street_ about ten minutes before showtime, leaving just enough time to go to the concession stand. Nancy and Jonathan split a bag of popcorn.

 _Are they on a date?_ Billy wondered. 

"Want to share a popcorn?" Steve asked casually. 

"Yeah, sure," Billy shrugged. He reached for his wallet. 

"I got it," Steve said quickly, giving Billy a quick smile.

"Oh. Thanks."

It was almost like _they_ were on a date. Which was ridiculous because they weren't. Because Steve was straight. And even if he wasn't straight, there was no conceivable universe where Steve would want to go on a date with a pathetic little fairy boy like Billy. 

The four of them sat in the back row of the theater. Jonathan at one end with Nancy next to him, Billy next to Nancy, and Steve next to Billy. When the lights went out, Billy subtly looked over to see if Jonathan's arm was around Nancy. It wasn't. But Billy wasn't entirely convinced that the two of them didn't have something going on. He'd seen the way they looked at each other. Plus, Jonathan drove Nancy here tonight. 

The movie was really good. Scary at most parts, but darkly funny in others. The main character's name was Nancy and she set up traps to fight the monster, Freddy Krueger. The actor who played Movie Nancy's boyfriend was _so_ hot, in that soft boy-next-door way. It was too bad he was killed in truly gruesome way. 

"Guess we found your horror movie alter ego, Nance," Steve said as the credits rolled. 

"Definitely hit a bit close to home," Nancy nodded, clearly a bit rattled by the movie. 

"You okay?" Billy heard Jonathan softly ask her as they walked out of the theater.

"Yeah," he heard Nancy respond. "It's just still kind of fresh, you know?"

By the time they exited The Hawk, the temperature had dropped considerably. Billy zipped up his leather jacket; he thought he saw Steve looking at him while he did so, but he was probably wrong. 

"Do you have a curfew?" Steve asked after Jonathan and Nancy got into Jonathan's car to go home. 

"Yeah, but it's not 'til eleven," Billy said. 

"There's not much to do around here this late," Steve said. "But want to meet me at Lake Jordan? It's kind of a cool place to hang."

"Sure," Billy smiled.

_Get a fucking grip on yourself, Hargrove. He probably just wants to get high or something._

* * *

Billy parked his car next to Steve's on the dirt parking area by the shore of Lake Jordan. Steve was already out of his car, leaning against the side of the Beemer with his arms crossed over his chest. Billy tried not to pay attention to the long line of Steve's body, from his legs to his shoulders to his face, to his hair. He was gorgeous. Billy was fucked. God, Billy was so fucked. 

"It's dark out here," Billy noted.

"It's not creeping you out is it?" Steve asked.

"Please," Billy snorted. "As if."

"Not even after the movie?" Steve teased. 

"I think that _you're_ scared," Billy countered.

"Nah."

"One, two, Freddy's coming for you," Billy sang softly. 

"You dick," Steve laughed.

"Three, four, better lock your door..."

"You really think you're funny, huh?"

"Five, six, grab your crucifix..." Billy continued around a giggle. 

Steve playfully shoved him. Billy laughed and pushed him back. He looked up at the sky and...

"Whoa," he breathed.

"What?" 

"The _stars_ ," Billy said. The sky was filled with them. All bright and glittering against the dark sky. Billy had never seen anything like it. It was one of the most beautiful, awe-inspiring things he had ever seen in his life. He was transfixed. 

He sat on the hood of the Camaro. Steve sat next to him. The two leaned back and lied down on the hood, side by side, looking up at the sky. 

"You don't get stars in San Diego?" Steve asked. 

"Not like this," Billy shook his head. "There's too much light pollution."

"See those three right there?" Steve said, guiding Billy's gaze by pointing up at an area. "Those three in a line? That's Orion's Belt. And if you look closer, you can see the whole Orion constellation. You see it?" 

"I think so."

"Here." Steve took Billy's hand and guided it so that it was pointing towards the different stars in the constellation. Billy's pulse jumped at the contact. "You see it?"

"Yeah," Billy nodded. They lowered their hands and were quiet for a moment. "What else do you think is out there?" Billy asked. 

"You mean, like, aliens or something?" 

Billy wasn't looking at Steve, but he could hear the smile in his voice. 

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Like aliens."

"I mean," Steve said. "I guess it would be pretty stupid to not even consider the possibility. Do you think they're out there?"

"Yeah, absolutely."

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Steve said after a moment.

"What?"

Steve paused for a second. "Tommy didn't do all that to you, did he? I know you guys got in a fight but...he doesn't usually go for the ribs and stomach."

Billy's stomach dropped. He knew that Steve saw his bruises in the showers after practice, but he didn't realize that Steve had paid that much attention to him. Shit; Steve saw right through his shit. Steve _knew_.

"No," Billy shook his head. 

"Who was it?" he asked quietly. Even though Billy _knew_ that Steve knew exactly who did it. He licked his lips before answering. 

"My dad," he said with a small shrug. Like, _no big deal_. Like, _my dad sometimes beats the crap out of me, but not always, not every day, and my stepmom is a lot nicer than he is so it's kind of balanced out, so it's okay, no big deal, nothing to talk about._

The silence that followed was unbearable. The thing was, Billy never talked about this. He and Max _never_ talked about what went on in their house to anyone. They couldn't. It was too fucked up, too _embarrassing_ , too _shameful_. 

"That sucks," Steve finally said. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Is your mom still in California?" he asked hesitantly. 

"I think so," Billy said softly. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "She walked out when I was ten. I haven't heard from her since. My dad married Susan, like, a year later."

"What about your parents?" Billy asked, taking the attention away from himself. "They still together?"

"Yeah, they are," Steve nodded. "They probably shouldn't be, though. Like, they're obviously not happy but I don't think they're even considering divorce. So it's like, they're just staying together because it's easier, you know?"

"They used to be happy," he continued. "But, um, a few years ago, my mom had a miscarriage and after that...things just kind of fell apart, you know?"

"Shit man."

"Yeah," Steve nodded. "The worst part is that they don't even acknowledge that anything is wrong. They just, like, pretend everything is normal."

"We do that in my family, too."

The two lay there on the hood of the Camaro in silence for a few moments. The cold of the metal seeped through Billy's jeans into his skin. He shivered. 

"You cold?" Steve asked. 

"A little," Billy said. "It's fuckin' cold out here."

"You'll get used to it." Billy heard the smile in Steve's voice again. 

And felt the back of Steve's fingers brush against the back of his. And stay there. 

_It's just an accident_ , he told himself. _Your hands are right next to his, so it's not like he meant to touch you. It's just something that happened._

"Did you have a girlfriend in San Diego?" Steve asked. He didn't move his hand.

"Nope," Billy said, focusing on keeping his voice steady.

"Really?" he asked, his tone teasing. "I would've thought you had, like, at least two girls you were seeing."

"Nah, my attention span isn't that good."

Steve laughed out loud. 

"What about you?" Billy ventured, even though he was pretty sure he would hate the answer. "You dating anyone right now?"

Steve slotted his fingers between Billy's. Billy's heart skipped a beat. 

"I think you know the answer to that."

Neither said anything. Billy tried to keep his breath steady. The positioning of their hands was awkward, but it didn't stop Steve from hooking their fingertips together. Billy, with a surge of recklessness, lightly tightened his fingers around Steve's. Steve squeezed back.

 _His hands are just cold,_ he thought desperately, _that's all this is._

Billy turned his head to look at Steve; he couldn't help it. 

Steve was already looking at him. They locked gazes, their fingers still intertwined. 

Steve was the one who moved first, leaning forward and brushing his lips against Billy's. Billy leaned into it, deepening the kiss. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat as he and Steve just kissed, and kissed, and holy _shit_ Steve was a great kisser. And the Billy was hit full-on with a surge of panic. He pulled away and turned his head back to the sky, covering his face. 

"Hey," Steve said softly. "What's wrong?"

"I like you," Billy said, his voice strained and muffled behind his hands. 

"Good," Steve said. "I like you too."

"No like, I'm gay," Billy blurted out. God, he was so fucking embarrassing. "I like you in, like, a _gay_ way."

Steve _laughed_. Jesus Christ, he was going to _die._

"You realize that _I_ kissed _you,_ right?" he asked. He gently pulled Billy's hands away from his face, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look down at him. "I like you. A lot," Steve said. "And I like you in a _gay way._ So, get out of your head."

Steve bent down and kissed him again. Billy brought his hand up to hold onto the back of Steve's neck, deepening the kiss. Steve hummed; the vibrations against Billy's lips made him never want to stop kissing him. Steve lightly stroked Billy's jaw and slipped his tongue into his mouth. Billy moaned softly around it and teased it with his own. He felt Steve's lips curve into a smile against his. It made him laugh, which made Steve laugh. Steve brushed back a curl that had fallen into Billy's face. 

"So you like me in a gay way, huh?" Steve grinned.

"Shut up," Billy giggled. He looked at his watch; it was getting close to eleven. "Shit, I gotta get home before curfew."

"Yeah, I guess you do," Steve said quietly. They sat up, each digging their keys out of there pockets. 

"Hey," Billy said hesitantly, "Can you, like, not tell anyone about..." he trailed off, gesturing vaguely. 

"About what?" Steve asked. "About us or about your dad?"

"Both?" Billy shrugged. 

"I wouldn't do that," Steve smiled softly. "C'mere."

Steve pulled Billy closer to him, looping his arms around his waist. Billy wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders. Steve pressed his forehead against Billy's. It was so intimate. Billy felt so warm in Steve's arms. He didn't want to let go. 

"I really like you, Billy," Steve murmured. "We can figure this out together. You want to?"

"Yeah," Billy breathed. "I want to."

They kissed one last time, softly, before slowly letting each other go and getting in their cars.

* * *

Billy got home five minutes before eleven. When he walked in, he saw his dad and Susan on the couch together with the TV playing some old black and white movie. His dad was asleep, still gripping a can of beer. Susan was knitting. She looked up and smiled when she saw Billy come in. Billy smiled back and mouthed _hey_ before walking into the kitchen for a glass of water. Susan put down her knitting and followed him.

"Hey," she said in a low volume. "How was your night?"

"It was good," Billy said. "We just went to the movies and hung out for a bit."

"That's nice," Susan smiled and nodded. "What movie did you see?"

" _A Nightmare on Elm Street_."

"Was it scary?"

" _So_ scary," Billy nodded, widening his eyes. "I might have to borrow one of Max's teddy bears tonight."

Susan laughed softly. 

"I'm glad you're finding your people here," Susan said.

"Yeah, me too," Billy nodded. 

"I know this move was hard on you kids," she said. 

"It's okay," Billy said. Susan gave him another smile. 

"Hey, listen," she said. "I'm taking Max to get some winter clothes tomorrow. Do you want to come with us? You absolutely need a winter coat and some warmer shirts."

"Sure," Billy shrugged. "Yeah, okay."

"Good," Susan said. "We'll head out in the afternoon so you two can sleep in a bit."

"Sounds good," Billy smiled softly. "I'm gonna go to bed."

"Yeah, you should," Susan said. "It's late. 'Night, honey."

"'Night, Mom," Billy said as he turned around to head to his room. 

He didn't realize what he had said until he was halfway down the hall. Didn't realize that the word "mom" had slipped out of his mouth so effortlessly. He didn't know if Susan had caught the slip. Couldn't bring himself to look back to see if she had noticed it or even heard it. Couldn't help but wonder if, on the chance Susan _had_ caught it, she minded. Or if she resented it because she _wasn't_ his mom. Or if she didn't care either way. Unable to stop his mind from going there, Billy wondered how his _actual_ mother would feel about him calling another woman "mom."

Billy went to sleep that night with the terrible feeling that he committed some horrible, irreparable betrayal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: "He doesn't worship the Devil; he worships Van Halen."
> 
> Billy, Max, Neil, and Susan drive to Indianapolis to spend Thanksgiving with Susan's family. It's surprisingly not awful.


	12. "He doesn't worship the devil; he worships Van Halen."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and Max's first Thanksgiving in Indiana isn't so awful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Edited to add one line because I'm sleep deprived AF*
> 
> Here's to hoping I can actually get this chapter up before or by American Thanksgiving...
> 
> We're also getting some sections in the POV of...Susan! And also Neil, which I didn't plan, but hey, we make plans and the gods laugh, so.
> 
> Content warnings: I'm giving Billy a fucking break this chapter and not having Neil verbally or physically assault him...Umm, mild religious fundamentalism and mentions of cults? Mild homophobia. Mention of the Draft. Oh and marijuana smoking. That's it!

"Steve," Billy sighed, breathless as Steve kissed his neck. " _Steve_ , come on, I have to pick up Max..."

Steve groaned next to Billy's ear, but he stopped. They were under the bleachers by the high school's athletic field. Had snuck back there after basketball practice that afternoon to make out; they had done the same thing the day before and on Monday. 

Steve lightly stroked his thumb where he was holding Billy by the waist. 

"I know," Steve sighed. "It's just gonna suck not seeing you tomorrow is all."

"It's just one day," Billy reminded him. He kissed him on the lips. "I think we'll live."

Steve dropped his head to bury his face in Billy's shoulder, groaning dramatically. Billy laughed. It _would_ suck not being able to see Steve the next day, especially since they had been doing _this_ every day since they first kissed at Lake Jordan—making out under the bleachers like a couple of teenagers. Which was appropriate since that was exactly what they were. Billy loved making out with Steve—he was fucking fantastic at it. Always kept a perfect rhythm, was neither too aggressive nor too shy. Actually knew how to use his tongue, instead of just ramming it against Billy's tonsils. No, instead Steve had this move where he would lightly tease Billy's tongue with his own and then pull back just a little bit to softly bite Billy's bottom lip. Made Billy feel all warm and tingly. 

The one downside about making out with Steve was that they had to take extra precautions to not get caught. Billy didn't want to think about what would happen if someone saw them kissing. It wouldn't be good. Not even Nancy and Jonathan knew. It was still early though. 

"Where did you say you were going again?" Steve asked, dropping his hand from Billy's waist so he could hold his hand. 

"Indianapolis," Billy said. "At Susan's sister's house."

"So is she like, what, your step-aunt?"

"Yeah I guess," Billy shrugged. "Susan's whole family is gonna be there. So, her mother, her two sisters, and _their_ husbands and kids. I met her mother once. At the wedding. And I talked to her older sister on the phone before for, like, ten seconds."

"What do you even call them?" Steve asked. "Like, obviously you call your stepmom by her first name, but are you on, like, a first name basis with her whole family?"

"At the wedding, I called Susan's mom 'Mrs. Mallon'," Billy remembered. "And she told me to just call her 'Nana'."

"Oh, that's nice."

"Yeah," Billy nodded. "Kinda awkward though, 'cause my _actual_ grandma was, like, _right there_ when she said it."

"How'd your real grandma take that?"

"Not well," Billy chuckled. "But Grandma Zsófia was a horrible bitch anyway, so who cares?"

Steve laughed. Truth be told, Grace Mallon had been more of a grandmother than Zsófia Hargrove ever was. When he first met her, Nana Grace had been friendly and warm. She had sent Billy birthday cards with a five dollar bill folded inside every year since Susan and Neil got married and always made a point to talk to Billy on the phone during her weekly phone call to Susan. As far as Billy could tell, Nana Grace treated him the same way that she treated Max. Like he was actually her grandson instead of just the son of her daughter's second husband.

"Well, fuck Grandma Sofia then," he said. 

"Zsófia," Billy said, kissing Steve's lips. "It's Hungarian."

"Do you speak Hungarian?"

"I just know _pofa be_ ," he grinned. "It means 'shut up'."

Steve kissed him and hooked a finger in one of Billy's belt loops. Billy's stomach flipped just the tiniest bit; Steve had never touched him there before. They'd been making out for the past few days, but they hadn't gone any further than that. Like, Steve's hands had never strayed lower than Billy's waist. Steve wasn't pushy; Billy was grateful for that. 

"You going anywhere tomorrow?" Billy asked.

"Nope," Steve shook his head. "We're hosting this year. My mom's family is coming in from Chicago and my dad's mom and brother are driving in from Indy."

"Sounds nice."

"I like my mom's family," Steve nodded. "My cousin Leah is pretty cool. My dad's brother just got out of rehab, though, and this was like, his third time going, so it might be kind of weird."

"Jesus," Billy said. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Steve smiled. "My mom's making pumpkin brownies, so there's that."

* * *

Susan had volunteered to bring a mac and cheese casserole, roasted vegetables, and a batch of cookies to her sister Deirdre's house. Penance, Susan had joked, for having missed so many Thanksgivings. And Christmases. And birthdays.

Susan never regretted moving from Indiana to California for college and then staying there for her entire adulthood. It was in California that she met Max's father, Sam, and without Sam, she would have never gotten Max. And it was in California that she met Neil, and without Neil, she and Max wouldn't have gotten Billy.

But she was glad to be back in Indiana and glad to be closer to her family. Now that the calls weren't so expensive, Susan and Deirdre had been talking to each other on the phone nearly every day. Deirdre was only ten months older than she was; as girls, they had been thick as thieves and it felt like they were falling right back into rhythm. Susan's other sister, Marjorie, was two years younger than her. 

Susan hadn't seen Marjorie since Max was born. During one of their phone calls, Deirdre had told her that Marjorie and her husband Don had been steadily sinking further and further into religion. They had been since they got married, when Marjorie was twenty. According to Deirdre, Marjorie had long ago stopped cutting her hair and wearing slacks, and that she homeschooled her six children. 

_"It scares the living hell out of Mom, Suze," Deirdre said. "They're coming for Thanksgiving, so you'll see for yourself."_

Susan was looking forward to spending Thanksgiving with her family. Her _whole_ family. It had been years since she had been to a big family gathering. Sam's entire family lived in Canada. Neil barely had any family. When they got married, the Hargrove clan was down to Neil, Billy, Neil's older brother Jack, his younger brother Rick, and his mother Zsófia. Jack was divorced and his wife had been granted custody of their two daughters. Neil's sister, Rose, and by extension, her husband and their children, had cut all contact with the family about a year before Susan and Neil met. When Neil told her that, Susan had been shocked; she couldn't imagine cutting ties with her own family. 

After spending an hour with Zsófia, Susan understood. Susan understood _perfectly._

"Deirdre has two kids," Susan now told Billy. She had put him and Max to work scrubbing and cutting vegetables—they would put them in the oven at Deirdre's to save time. "Her daughter, Annie, is in college and her son, Paul, is your age. He plays basketball, too, so you have that in common."

"Cool," Billy nodded, looking up from the cutting board...and still cutting. 

"Watch your fingers," Susan instructed.

"I'm fine," Billy laughed. "I'm not the one who almost cut their finger off slicing bread." He flicked Max in the head. There was a reason why Susan was only letting Max wash the vegetables instead of cut them. 

"That was one time," Max rolled her eyes. "It's not like I set the microwave on fire because I left foil in it, _Billy_."

"That was _one time._ "

Susan was so thankful that Max and Billy got along well. Sure, they got into fights sometimes, but you'd be hard-pressed to find a pair of siblings that didn't. Hell, Susan remembered that even she and Deirdre, as close as they were, had pulled each other's hair and thrown toys at each other more than once when they were little girls.

Susan wouldn't have married Neil if Billy and Max hadn't gotten along. They had taken to each other almost right away. Susan remembered when she first met Billy, six months after she started dating Neil. He had been shy, almost standoffish, and Susan understood that; after all, she knew that Billy's birth mother, Sandra, had up and left only a year before. It was probably hard for an eleven-year-old boy to wrap his head around the fact that his father had moved on. Especially when he so clearly missed his mother. So, Susan didn't mind that she carried the first few conversations she had with him. 

Almost five years later, the ice had mostly thawed. Susan liked to think that she and Billy had a good relationship, all things considered. Billy had trust issues and kept her at arm's length and Susan certainly understood why. Between Sandra and Neil, it was shocking that Billy even let her take care of him at all. She hated what Neil put Billy through. What Neil _did_ to Billy. The first time she saw Neil hit him, it had been after they were married. When Susan was legally entangled with Neil Hargrove. Neil, after seeing the horrified look on Susan's face, had told her that sometimes boys needed a "rougher touch" than girls did. 

_"Trust me," Neil said with a reassuring smile. Susan felt sick. "Sometimes the only way to get through to boys is to give them a slap."_

Susan had married that man. The next time she saw Neil slap that boy, she had to grip the kitchen counter to stop herself from grabbing him and Max—both kids, _her_ kids—putting them in her car, and speeding away. The only thing that had stopped her was the fact that she had no legal claim to Billy. She hadn't adopted him and there was _no_ way she wouldn't get arrested for kidnapping him. She couldn't ask Neil if she could adopt him—Neil would insist on adopting Max and she had to protect her daughter. 

She could have just taken Max and left Neil. But she knew in her gut that Neil's abuse would only get worse if she wasn't there. It probably _was already worse_ whenever Susan wasn't home to bear witness to it. So, she stayed to protect her son. 

Billy would turn eighteen in two years. Susan's plan was to file for divorce and move herself and Max into a different house; she was pretty confident that she could convince Billy to move with them so that he wouldn't have to stay with Neil during college breaks. Hell, Billy had already called her "Mom" once, so the fantasy wasn't that much of a stretch. 

* * *

They took Susan's car for the drive to Indianapolis. Susan, to avoid an argument, let Neil drive. Truth be told, it wasn't that much of a hardship; Neil was a lot of things, but a bad driver he was not. So, Susan rode shotgun while their children rode in the backseat. Billy was wearing the new maroon sweater she had bought him when she took the kids shopping for winter clothes; he had attached a Slayer pin with the band's name overtop an inverted pentacle to the sweater's hem. Max was wearing her new dark green sweater and corduroy pants. Susan had given up trying to get Max to wear skirts and dresses when she was three. She didn't mind. She really didn't. Her daughter deserved to express herself the way she wanted to.

The drive wasn't bad. Neil had Susan choose the radio station, so the car was filled with the songs the "oldies" station was playing. A lot of Beatles, and Rolling Stones, and The Mamas and The Papas. They even tuned into the station just in time for the annual playing of Arlo Guthrie's "Alice's Restaurant". Susan had played that song every Thanksgiving that Max was alive and had continued the tradition when she and Neil got married. As a result, they all knew the words by heart. When Susan looked into the backseat, she could see that Max and Billy were muttering the spoken-word lyrics to the song and trying not to laugh:

_They got a buildin' down in New York City called Whitehall Street, where you_  
_Walk in, you get injected, inspected, detected, infected, neglected and selected!_

Jesus. Susan hoped to God Above that there wouldn't be another draft and if, Heaven forbid there was, that Billy's birthday wouldn't be drawn. Susan would break Billy's legs before she let him go to war. 

The drive went on. Billy and Max had moved on to amusing themselves with a game that Billy was teaching Max how to play. 

"Okay so the game is called 'Kill Bob'," Billy said. Through the rearview mirror, Susan saw that he was holding a notebook and a pen. He drew a stick figure in the center of the page. "My objective is to kill Bob and your objective is to save Bob. The game ends when there's no more room on the paper and the winner is whoever makes the last sketch."

"Can we call him something other than 'Bob'? Max asked. 

"Yeah, totally. What do you want to call him?"

"How about 'Tommy'?"

Billy snorted. 

"Do you want to save Tommy?"

"No," Max giggled. "What about...I dunno...'Floyd'."

"Okay," Billy laughed. "'Floyd' it is."

The two started drawing, each taking turns with a pencil. Next to her, Neil had a look of contained amusement.

"These kids are so _morbid_ ," he said to Susan. 

"It's that damn MTV," Susan joked dryly. The corner of Neil's mouth quirked up. 

"Where do they even learn a game like this?" 

"School, I imagine," Susan shrugged. 

The thing was...Neil wasn't always a piece of shit. Sometimes, he was every bit of the loving father and husband that Susan thought she married. He could be charming, funny, flirtatious, seductive even. It was just that he could also be a man who beat his son. 

"Goat," Max said abruptly as they drove past a field.

"Goat?" Billy echoed. The two stared out of Max's window. 

"Oh, there are a few of them!" she said. 

"Yeah, it's like a whole herd."

"Do you think they're all friends?" Max asked. "Or do you think they're cliquey?"

"Nah, I think they're aliens," Billy said. 

"Really. That's what you think," Max drawled. 

"Not just those goats," Billy nodded. "All goats are aliens."

"Right, of course."

"Yeah," Billy continued. "And pretty soon, they're all going get together and rise up and take over the whole planet as the dominant life form, and then we'll all be serving our goat overlords and praying to the goat gods for the rest of time. All hail the horn."

There was a brief silence in the car. Neil's face was a portrait of bewilderment. 

"Billy," Neil finally said. "What the fuck?"

Susan snorted out of sheer surprise and amusement. Max gave an exaggerated, melodramatic gasp. 

"Neil, you just said the F word," she said. 

"In front of children!" Billy added like he was scandalized. 

"Better put a quarter in the swear jar, Neil," Susan mock scolded. 

Neil let out a low chuckle and put his hand on her thigh, squeezing affectionately. Right then, in the car, Neil was the man she had dated and fell in love with. She let herself live in the moment so that she wouldn't have to think about how different this Neil was from the one that she was married to. 

* * *

Deirdre Weston (née Mallon) lived in a two-story, five bedroom home in the suburbs of Indianapolis. The home boasted a large dining room, a spacious family room, and a smaller, separate living room. They had a fenced-in backyard with a well-manicured lawn and a patio big enough for a basketball hoop and room to dribble a ball. They had two large dogs—a Saint Bernard named Argos and a Bernese Mountain Dog named Athena—that nearly knocked Max over when they ran to the foyer when the Hargrove-Mayfields walked in.

Billy wondered what the hell Deirdre and her husband Collin did for a living. He wasn't thinking about it judgmentally. Deirdre and Collin were super nice and warm even though it was their first time meeting Billy and Neil (actually it was kind of their first time meeting Max too). It was just that...well, if being nice paid the bills, the world would be a much kinder place. 

"It's so nice to finally meet you two!" Deirdre said. She pulled Billy and Max into a hug that thankfully didn't last long. 

"You too, Aunt Deirdre," Max said.

Deirdre introduced them to Annie and Paul, who thankfully didn't go for a hug. Annie looked like Susan, Deirdre, and Max—bright red hair and fair skin. Paul took more after Colin and had light brown hair. 

"Is that Maxine and Billy I hear?" Nana Grace called out as she emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands off with a dish towel. 

"Hi, Nana," the two said. Nana Grace gave each of them a tight hug before moving onto Susan and giving Neil a polite kiss on the cheek. 

Marjorie and Don Porter arrived a second later, with their six children—Allen (age sixteen), Mary (age fourteen), Katherine (age twelve), Christopher and Amelia (ten-year-old twins), and Peter (age eight). Marjorie was visibly pregnant. 

Billy was _so_ glad it was only him and Max at home; he couldn't imagine having five (six?) siblings. He even caught Susan's eyes widen just a little and just for a second when she saw her sister's belly. He silently agreed. Why would _anyone_ want to have so many children? That was insane. Paul and Annie and their parents didn't seem too phased. Billy guessed that they were used to it. 

"Slayer, huh?" Paul said, gesturing to Billy's band pin. 

"Yeah," Billy nodded. 

"Nice," Paul said. "I have their new EP. Wanna listen in my room?"

"Yeah, totally," Billy grinned. Paul led him away upstairs while everyone else was still distracted with greetings and "what have you been up to's".

* * *

Paul's room was completely decked out in band posters. He had a stereo and stacks of records and tapes. It was actually kind of like Billy's room, just bigger. 

"Figured I'd pull you away before you had to talk to all of them," Paul said as he took out Slayer's new EP, _Haunting The Chapel_. "Aunt Marjorie and her tribe. They're, like, total Jesus freaks."

"Shit, really?" Billy said, looking through Paul's music collection. 

"Yeah, man," he nodded. "Annie and I spent a weekend at their house two years ago and it was all wall-to-wall crosses and scripture verses, and the cousins are all home-schooled, but Marjorie isn't doing a good job of it 'cause they haven't read, like, _anything_ that's not overtly Christian. And she doesn't teach them science, like, _at all._ Like, none of them even believe in evolution or dinosaurs or anything."

"They don't believe in dinosaurs?" Billy asked incredulously. "There's, like, actual physical proof though. Like, fossils and shit."

"Right?" Paul nodded. He hit the play button on the stereo. "And the girls, like, aren't allowed to wear pants. It's so weird."

It _was_ weird. Billy found himself feeling grateful that Neil and Susan were only, like, _mildly_ Catholic. Enough that they went to church occasionally, but not enough that divorce and remarriage was an issue for them. 

"So how are you liking Indiana?" Paul asked. "Bet it's a big change from California."

"It's not that bad," Billy said. "Max and I have friends here now, so it hasn't been terrible."

 _If you ignore the monsters that live in Hawkins, it's been pretty standard_ , Billy thought. 

"I made the basketball team at school," Billy added. 

"Yeah, I heard," Paul grinned. "Hawkins High, right? Our schools are kind of rivals, so we'll probably play against each other this season."

"You're so on," Billy laughed. 

"So, uh, new cuz," Paul said, taking something out of one of his drawers. "You smoke pot?"

* * *

Susan checked the timer she set for the vegetables. She, Deirdre, Marjorie, and their mother all had various trays and dishes in the oven, each with their own timers. It was nice, cooking with her sisters and mom. It was like when they were all younger, before husbands, and kids, and newly found religious zeal. 

Susan and Deirdre were leaning against the kitchen island, drinking a nice Cabernet from Deirdre and Colin's expansive wine collection. She and her sister had come a long way from the shoplifted wine coolers of their youth. Their mother was sitting at the island, drinking her own glass. Neil, Colin, and Don were in the family room, drinking imported beer and shooting the shit while a football game played in the background. Well, Neil and Colin were drinking. Don was not, and neither was Marjorie. Susan had the feeling that even if Marjorie weren't pregnant, she wouldn't be drinking. 

Deirdre really hadn't been exaggerating when it came to Marjorie. Everything about their younger sister, from the way she dressed to the way she spoke and composed herself, was far more conservative than Susan could have ever imagined. Her children (God, she had _six_ of them already, what the hell was she doing getting pregnant again?) were polite, but maybe more reserved than polite. All of them were hanging around the area between the kitchen and the family room, even their older son, who was the same age as Billy and Paul. 

Billy had disappeared into Paul's room almost immediately after they had arrived. If Susan had to put money on it, she'd guess that the two were listening to records and smoking grass. When she and Deirdre were their age, they too would get stoned right before Thanksgiving dinner with their cousins Tessie and Claude, who were a few years older than them. Like mother, like son. 

Max wasn't there, either. Annie had whisked her away around the same time Paul and Billy slipped off. Susan remembered Tessie doing her and Deirdre's makeup when they were kids. She wondered if that's what the girls were doing. 

* * *

"We have the same coloring, so my makeup will definitely work with you," Annie said, selecting various creams and palettes and tubes from her makeup collection. Max was perched on the stool in front of Annie's vanity in her bedroom. Her eyes wandered to the dress form in the corner. It had a gauzy fabric draped over the hips and shoulders. 

"What are you making?" Max asked. 

"I'm testing out a pattern for a dress," Annie said. She grabbed a sketchbook from her desk and showed Max the fit-and-flare design, embellished with metal chains and lace. It was, in Max's opinion, a very cool dress, as far as dresses went. "It's still in a prototype phase, so that's why I'm using muslin right now instead of nicer fabric."

"You go to art school, right?"

"Yeah. I'm a fashion design major. You have really beautiful bone structure, by the way."

"Thanks," Max said. Her mom had always told her that she was pretty. And she'd seen the way Lucas and Dustin looked at her. But it was different when the attention was coming from another girl who _wasn't_ her mom. It felt more real somehow. Especially since Annie, with her perfectly done hair and stylish outfit, was easily one of the coolest and most beautiful girls Max had ever spent time with, coming in at a close second to Nancy Wheeler's first place. 

"What do you like to do?" Annie asked. "Close your eyes."

"I skateboard," Max said. She felt Annie start brushing something on her eyelids. It felt nice. "And I like going to the arcade."

"What's your favorite game?"

"Dig Dug."

"I gave up playing that," Annie laughed. "My reflexes suck. Open your eyes and don't move a muscle."

Max concentrated on sitting still while Annie applied mascara to her eyelashes. As Annie continued doing her makeup, Max felt a slight tingle in the back of her head, by the base of her skull. She felt it whenever she let her mom do her hair. She wondered if everyone else experienced it too, or if she was a total freak and weirdly perverted. She didn't want to ask anyone. She didn't really have anyone to ask.

"I'm so glad you're letting me do this," Annie said. She opened a blush palette and swept a little bit on Max's cheeks with a soft brush. "I tried doing Mary and Katherine's makeup last year and Aunt Marjorie totally flipped her shit. Told my mom she didn't want her daughters looking like whores. It's such bullshit. Just because a girl wears makeup and goes out with boys and doesn't dress like a fucking puritan, it doesn't make her a whore. And it definitely doesn't make her stupid."

"Totally," Max nodded. She closed her mouth so that Annie could dab on some light pink lipstick. 

"And anyway," Annie continued, fluffing up Max's hair a bit. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with being a whore. Damn, look in the mirror, you fucking beauty queen."

Max looked in the mirror. Annie hadn't gone overboard with the makeup, just used enough to accentuate Max's features. She looked really pretty. Like...Max had never really thought of herself as pretty. She liked what she saw in the mirror. 

* * *

In the Weston's sprawling living room, sitting on their expensive furniture, and drinking their expensive imported wine, Neil tried to shake the feeling that he was a lesser man for not being able to provide such luxuries for his family. While his and Susan's combined incomes ensured that their children had a roof over their heads, food, clothes, school supplies, and regular access to medical care, they were still in that tight lower middle class status that meant that Billy and Max didn't have an allowance and would have to win scholarships if they wanted to go to college. He hoped Billy could get a scholarship. In a regrettable fit of frustration and anger earlier that week, he had told Billy that he should enlist in the military, that if he was so hellbent on being a disrespectful little shit, maybe the drill sergeants at boot camp would straighten him out. 

Neil didn't want his son to enlist. The thought of Billy in fatigues and carrying an assault rifle made his stomach turn.

Colin Weston was a doctor who specialized in family medicine. Neil nodded politely as his brother-in-law gave him a brief outline of what it was that he did that afforded him this house, in this neighborhood, allowed his wife to only teach piano lessons because she _wanted_ to and not because she _needed_ to, and allowed his daughter to go to an arts college in New York City. 

Neil was a security guard in a business park in Downtown Hawkins and Susan was a bank teller. 

His other brother-in-law, Don Porter, worked at the church he and his family went to. His wife, Marjorie, homeschooled all of their children and they all seemed to be happy with that arrangement. Neil would never want to homeschool his children. It was better for all of them to be apart for at least half of every day. Plus, Neil knew he wouldn't be good at it, teaching. He wasn't patient. He would lose his temper more than he already did. 

Don didn't drink and it made Neil not like him. He was suspicious of men who didn't drink. And he didn't like men who drank too much and too often. Don didn't speak like Neil and Colin did; Neil swore that he saw Don flinch when Colin let loose a "son of a bitch" when a football player on the TV screen fumbled the ball. He kept looking over at his six children, who were calmly petting and cooing at the Weston's dogs.

Don's oldest son, Allen, was Billy's age, and his daughters Katherine and Mary were around Max's age. The Porter kids were just...so weird. Unnaturally reserved and polite for teenagers. Choosing to pet the dogs instead of properly playing with them in the backyard. Staying together instead of hanging out with Neil and Colin's children. Neil found himself thanking God that Billy and Max weren't like them. Sure, his kids might be loud, might talk back to him and Susan, might miss their curfews, and might act like little hooligans. But at least they were independent and bold and tough in their own ways. Hell, those kids were even funny sometimes. He and Susan weren't raising total squares like Don and Marjorie clearly were. 

_Do people still say 'square'?_

"Neil, I couldn't help but notice your son's pin," Don said cautiously. Neil wasn't sure what he was talking about; he hadn't noticed that Billy was wearing any sort of pin. 

"What about it?" Neil asked.

"Well, it has a...a symbol on it with demonic connotations."

"Yeah, I bet it does," Neil snorted rolling his eyes as if to signal a _teenage boys, right?_ Next to him, Colin sipped at his beer.

"Neil, does Billy worship the Devil?" 

Colin choked on his beer. _Jesus H. Christ on a cross, Don was out of his fucking mind._

"He doesn't worship the Devil," Neil said coolly. "He worships Van Halen."

"Hey, so does Paul," Colin added cheerfully. "I bet the two of them are rocking out upstairs as we speak."

"You know," Don said after a pause. "Satan speaks to the youth through their rock music. Teenagers are especially vulnerable."

"Is that right?" Colin sighed.

"Oh yes," Don nodded. "You know, Neil, our church has an excellent youth program. My children love it. If you feel like Billy and Maxine are going down the wrong path, I'd be happy to send you some literature."

_How fucking dare you._

Neil leveled Don with a stare. 

"They're fine," he said icily. 

* * *

"You mean that weird boy who used to follow us home?" Susan laughed. 

" _Yes_!" Deirdre said. "He's now the x-ray technician at Colin's practice."

" _No,"_ Susan gasped. Deirdre cackled and opened another bottle of wine. 

"I remember that boy," their mom said as Deirdre refilled her glass. "He once left a box of chocolates on our front porch with a handwritten poem."

"He _did?_ " Susan and Deirdre shrieked in unison. 

"I threw the whole thing away," Grace said with a wry smile. "I thought he might have poisoned them. And the poem was terrible."

The three of them laughed; Marjorie smiled politely and sipped her glass of lemonade. 

"Margie, do you remember when we all snuck out to go see Deirdre's boyfriend's band play at The Bassline?" Susan asked.

"I do," Marjorie nodded. "We were pretty wild, weren't we?"

"You girls thought you were being so sneaky," Grace remembered fondly. "With those pillows under your blankets so I would think you were still in bed."

"You know, you were pretty wild in those days, Margie," Susan said carefully. "You always had a string of boyfriends."

"I did," Marjorie said primly. "But I saw the light and now I'm on the right path. And I'm leading my children on that path too. They'll never make the mistakes we did."

Grace and Deirdre each took sips of their wine. Deirdre took a casserole dish out of the oven. 

"Kids make mistakes, Marjorie," Susan said gently. "You can guide them all you want, but at the end of the day, they're their own people and they'll make their own mistakes that they'll learn from. We can't control them forever."

"Maybe _you_ can't," Marjorie said with a smile. "But Don and I are raising our children in the light of the Lord and the Lord guides us through the church. We find that if you fill your life and your days with God, there's no room left for Satan."

* * *

Billy coughed and passed the joint back to Paul. They were sitting in his bed. The window was open, a scented candle was lit, and a towel was jammed in the crack of the door. _The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars_ was playing from Paul's record player. Paul was cool. Billy had been nervous about meeting Susan's family. He knew that Paul was his age, but what if he had been a total douchebag? He was so relieved to be wrong. 

Billy had cousins on his dad's side. Technically. The last time he saw his cousin Luke was when he was ten and Luke was fourteen. It was the day that Luke's mom, his Aunt Rose, officially cut ties with the family. It had only been two months after his mom left. 

"You got a girlfriend?" Paul asked. 

"Nah," Billy shook his head. "You?"

"Yeah," Paul nodded. "Her name's Katie. She does gymnastics."

"Cool."

"Yeah, she's like, crazy good," Paul smiled. "Like, the shit she does? Like, she flips around in the air and catches herself on these wooden bars and flips _again_ on those. And she's not even afraid she's going to miss and crack her head open. She's fuckin' nuts. I love her so much."

_I've been making out with this guy who's in my new friend group. And we went down into these freaky tunnels and killed monsters together and also kind of committed arson._

A knock at the door startled them. 

"Shit," Paul muttered. He stubbed the joint out and hid it under his pillow. "Yeah?" he called out.

The door opened and Annie walked in, Max in tow. 

"Do you have a minute to talk about our lord and sav- Jesus Christ, how much have you guys been smoking?"

Annie shut the door behind them and plugged the door crack back up. Max was wearing makeup. Billy had never seen Max wear makeup.

"Just one joint," Paul chuckled. 

"And you didn't invite me?" Annie arched an eyebrow. "Rude."

"You've been stoned since breakfast, don't even start."

Paul brought the joint back out and handed it to Annie along with his lighter.

"How's the God Squad, Max?" Paul asked. 

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I've been with Annie the whole time."

"I bet Mom is going to try to send Allen up here," Annie rolled her eyes as she took a drag. "She's always trying to save those kids."

"They're already saved," Billy snorted. Paul cracked up. 

Billy caught Max looking curiously at the joint and pretending to not be interested. 

"Max, you want to try a little?" Billy asked. 

"Can I?" Max asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," Billy nodded. "Only if you want though."

"Yeah, I want to."

Annie handed her the joint. 

"Okay, so put it in your mouth," Billy instructed. "And, like, suck in a bit so that the smoke is in your mouth, and then inhale the smoke into your lungs. And hold it in for a bit before exhaling."

Billy, Paul, and Annie watched as Max followed the instructions. She inhaled, held her breath, and then coughed out a cloud of smoke. Billy, Paul, and Annie applauded. 

"Yay, baby's first joint," Billy laughed. He patted Max's back as she coughed. 

"Oh my God," Max groaned as she got her breathing under control. 

* * *

"Allen, why don't you go upstairs and see what Paul and Billy are up to?" Deirdre suggested. "I'm sure you guys have a lot to catch up on."

* * *

"How you feelin', Maxie?" Billy asked. He and Paul were sprawled out on the bed; Annie was sitting in Paul's desk chair and playing with Max's hair, who was seated on the floor in front of her.

"I feel good," Max said with a smile. She didn't have too much pot; she had just taken three small puffs. Billy wondered if he was a bad older brother for offering her drugs. But it was only a little bit of weed. And at least she was trying it out with people who loved her and not people who didn't give a shit about her. Billy smoked pot for the first time with Amy, in Emiliano Marquez's basement when they were twelve. It had been fun up until Emiliano's dad came down and made a creepy comment to Amy that Billy couldn't quite remember, but had something to do with Amy's developing breasts. Billy had said something about how he and Amy needed to go home and finish a project for social studies, and they left. 

"You know not to tell anyone about this right?" Billy asked. 

"Duh," Max rolled her eyes. "I'll just add it to the list of shit we don't talk about."

_Well, shit._

There was another knock at the door. The joint had been finished and the room was already airing out. Paul yelled "come in" to whoever it was who knocked. 

It was Allen. 

"Hi," he said, like he was nervous. The others gave a standard "hey" back. Allen's eyes swiveled around Paul's room, going from the band posters to the magazine cutouts of bikini models, flushing just a tiny bit at them. 

"What are you all listening to?" he finally asked. 

"David Bowie," Max said. "You like him?"

"I don't know," Allen shrugged. "I've never listened to him."

Max handed him the album case so he could check it out. Allen took one look at the album art and gave it back to Max.

"Is he some kind of homosexual or something?" he asked. 

Annie turned away and tried to contain a snicker behind her hand. 

"Yeah, dude, he's some kinda homosexual or something," Billy said dryly.

"We're all some kinda homosexual or something here," Annie added in a creepy voice. Paul, Billy, and Max broke out in peals of laughter—first at Annie's joke and then at Allen's jaw dropping. "Allen, I'm joking around, lighten up," she said.

"What kind of music do you listen to?" Billy asked.

"Christian rock, mostly," Allen shrugged, still looking uncomfortable. Billy had never listened to "Christian rock" and had no plans to start. He wasn't even totally sure what Christian rock even was. It sounded boring as shit. 

Allen was kind of the polar opposite of Billy—buttoned up, conservative, reserved, and religious. From what he heard from Paul, he trusted authority with no questions asked and respected his parents and church elders to the point of worship. Billy knew he shouldn't judge a book by its cover. But Allen just seemed _weird_ on, like, an intrinsic level. He was glad he could at least hang with Paul and Annie that night.

* * *

The rest of the evening was nice, Susan thought. The dinner was good, the children were all getting along at the kids table, and the adults were keeping it friendly, despite everyone's differences. After they ate, Billy, Max, Annie, Paul, and even Allen played with the dogs in the backyard and shot basketball hoops. They took a ton of family photos, some with Susan's Polaroid and some with her sisters' cameras.

As they were all saying their goodbyes and getting ready to leave, she saw Annie give Max a book she must have grabbed from her room and subtly slip her a tube of lipstick (she couldn't believe Max had actually let Annie do her makeup!), and overheard Paul tell Billy that there were some cool music venues in the city and that he'd call Billy if he heard of any good bands planning a show so they could go together. 

Susan was so happy that her and Deirdre's kids had taken to each other. They lived close enough now so that they could develop a real friendship like cousins ought to. 

They had a two-hour drive back to Hawkins. Neil hadn't drank enough to get drunk, thank God.

"Can we get a dog?" Max asked as they made their way to the interstate. 

Neil and Susan exchanged bemused looks. 

"We can discuss it," Neil finally said. 

Through the rearview mirror, Susan saw Max and Billy quietly high-five. 

An hour into the drive, Susan turned around and saw that the kids were asleep, each resting their heads on their respective windows. She quietly took out her Polaroid and snapped a photo. Billy seemed to wake up a tiny bit, before shifting in his seat and fall back asleep. When Max was little and fell asleep in the car, Susan would carry her into the house, take her shoes off for her, and tuck her into bed. 

She wondered if Neil ever did the same with Billy. Somehow, the idea of Neil being gentle with Billy when he was little made the entire situation they were all in now even worse. 

"I think..." Susan started. "I think Marjorie's in a cult."

Neil sighed and nodded. He put his hand on her thigh. 

Susan was still holding firm to her plan of leaving Neil as soon as Billy became a legal adult. A pleasant evening with their family during a holiday didn't change anything, didn't magically fix all the other nights that she heard Neil hitting his son— _her_ son. If nothing else, it just made their present a little more bearable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: "Tina's parents are rich and consumed with guilt."
> 
> (November 30th, 1984)
> 
> Billy, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan go to a party at Tina's house. They don't stay long. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Max plays D&D with Lucas, Dustin, Will, Mike...and El.


	13. "Tina's parents are rich and full of guilt."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (November 30, 1984)
> 
> Billy, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathon go to a party at Tina's. They don't stay too long. Meanwhile, Max goes to game night at the Wheeler's. So does El.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for another long delay! Hopefully this chapter is worth the wait. There are probably a metric fuck ton of typos and left out words because proofreading is for suckers.
> 
> Content Warnings: Underage drinking, oral sex, blink-and-you-miss-it reference to roofies, reference to sexual assault, toxic thought patterns.

"Didn't Tina _just_ have a party?" Billy asked as he parked the Camaro a few doors down from Tina's house. 

"Yeah, on Halloween," Steve said from the passenger seat next to him. "She's allowed to throw parties a lot because her parents are always on business trips. Guess they feel bad about her being alone all the time."

"Tina's parents are rich and full of guilt," Nancy added from the back seat, where she was sitting with Jonathan. 

The four of them got out of the Camaro. At school that day, he and Steve had flipped a coin to see which one of them would have to drive that night. Nancy didn't have a car and Jonathan hadn't even wanted to come, so it was only fair that they wouldn't make him drive. Since Billy was driving, he had to watch how much he drank at Tina's. If this had been only a few months ago, if Billy hadn't been in charge of driving his friends, if he had only been responsible for driving himself, he might _not_ have been so inclined to make sure he didn't get drunk. 

But this was now. Now, Billy was less apathetic about any potential demise he might meet. He wanted to live. Like... _truly_ live. 

"You look good behind the wheel," Steve whispered into his ear as they walked up to Tina's door. Luckily Nancy and Jonathan were a few steps ahead of them. Billy was, like, eighty percent sure they were together. They didn't hold hands or kiss or anything, not in front of him or Steve at least, but Billy saw the way they looked at each other. There was clearly mutual attraction there.

Billy tried to stop himself from smiling. He lightly shoved Steve's shoulder. 

"Gay," he muttered playfully. Steve bumped their shoulders together as they walked into the house. 

The party was already in full swing. Tina's house was filled wall-to-wall with their classmates, all drinking either beer from cans and bottles or mystery liquid from red plastic cups, dancing, talking, smoking cigarettes and joints. A few couples were making out in corners. Pop music was pumping out of a stereo's speakers. 

"Okay," Jonathan said, more to Nancy than anyone else. "I'm ready to go home now."

"Come on," Nancy said, tugging on his arm. "Let's just do a lap. Good people watching if nothing else."

Shit, Jonathan was _not_ exaggerating earlier when he said he hated parties. 

"Let's give it an hour and meet back here," Steve suggested. "If the party sucks, we can just leave and hang out at my place or something."

"Fine," Jonathan sighed. He let Nancy lead him away, somewhere further into the house. 

"Want to get a drink?" Steve asked. 

"Yeah, totally," Billy nodded. Steve knew the layout of this house better than he did; he let Steve guide him to the kitchen. The island counter was packed with unopened cans of cheap beer, empty bottles, discarded cups, a few half-empty plastic bottles of vodka and tequila, and a big punch bowl filled with...some sort of red drink. 

"Tina's punch is deadly," Steve said, grabbing a plastic cup. "You gotta try it."

Billy glanced at the open bowl of punch. It made him uneasy. 

"Nah, that's okay," Billy shook his head before Steve could ladle some into the cup. "I'm just gonna stick with beer." He grabbed two cans and handed one to Steve. 

"Probably a smart idea," Steve laughed. "Someone probably, liked, coughed over this or something."

"Yeah, probably," Billy forced himself to laugh. He took a sip of beer. Distantly, he wondered if he would ever be able to drink something that was just...out like that ever again. Or if he would be able to ever accept a drink that someone else poured for him in another room again. 

* * *

Lucas rolled a five. 

"So you would...shoot an arrow?" Max asked. She had been invited to a game night at Mike Wheeler's house. Which meant that she was sitting next to Lucas, watching as Lucas, Dustin, Will, and Mike played a round of D&D. Because even though Mike let her come, he wouldn't let her actually play the game, because according to him, Max would slow down the process because she had never played before. And because it was Mike's house, he made the rules. 

Mike rolled his eyes at Max's suggestion and scribbled on his notepad as Lucas explained the move that he was _actually_ going to make. Max was pretty sure that she hated Mike. He was a colossal jerk, even now that El was back in town. El was even _there_ tonight, and Mike was _still_ acting like Max was pond scum. 

Max looked across the table at El. She was sitting close to Mike, kind of watching the game unfold, but not really. Max could tell that she was bored shitless. 

After everything had gone down That Night, when they had all regrouped at the Byers' house, she and El had had a moment. When Max was helping Lucas and Dustin gather the sketches that had lined the walls, El had walked up to her, dried blood under her nose and clearly exhausted, and wordlessly removed a petrified twig that had gotten tangled in her hair when she was down in the tunnels. 

_"Thanks," Max said after a surprised pause._

_El offered her a small smile._

_"Let's, um," Max hesitated. "Let's get your face cleaned up, yeah?"_

El had let Max take her into the Byers' bathroom and gently wipe the blood off of her face. Tonight was the first time Max was seeing her since then. 

Max looked away from the game and scanned Mike's basement for something, anything, else to do other than watch these boys play Dungeons and Dragons. Her eyes landed on a stack of jigsaw puzzles. 

"Hey. El," she said abruptly as Dustin rolled some dice. El looked up at her. Everyone was looking at her. She hoped she wasn't about to come off as a total lame-o. "You like puzzles?"

"That stuff's for babies," Mike rolled his eyes...at the same time, El answered, "Yes."

Max felt her lips pull up into a smile. 

"Want to do one with me?" she asked. 

El smiled and nodded. The two got up from the table. Max pulled a puzzle box from the shelf—a 150-piece one that was supposed to show a scene of ballet dancers when it was completed. She and El sat cross-legged on the floor and dumped out the pieces. 

* * *

Billy sipped at his second beer and bit back a laugh as Steve laid out an argument about why Billy was _totally_ wrong about Tom Cruise. 

"You're _almost_ convincing, Harrington," Billy grinned. "Almost."

" _Almost_?" Steve asked, eyes widening. "Come on— _almost_?"

"Almost," Billy shrugged. 

They were in a hallway that was a little bit away from the main action, close to the powder room. Close enough that they could see a little into the living room, where Nancy had somehow coaxed Jonathan into dancing with her to some Duran Duran song. From where they were standing, Jonathan at least looked like he was having fun. 

The door to the powder room swung open; a guy—Billy was pretty sure his name was Mitch and that he was a senior—walked out, swigging from a plastic cup as he walked back into the living room. He and Steve were the only people in that area of the house. 

A split second after Mitch (was it Mitch?) was out of sight, Steve flashed Billy a roguish smile and smoothly pulled him into the powder room, quickly locking the door behind him. 

They were on each other in, like, a nanosecond. Lips crashing together like magnets. Billy set his beer down on the counter so he could cup Steve's face in his hands and tangle his fingers in his hair. His eyes were closed, but he heard Steve toss his own empty can on the counter. Steve wrapped an arm around Billy's waist, pressing his hand against the middle of Billy's back; he brought his other hand to the back of Billy's skull, fingers lightly gripping at his hair, sending chills down his spine. 

Billy nipped Steve's bottom lip, immediately chasing the spot with his tongue. Steve smiled as they continued to kiss. Steve always smiled when they kissed or made out. Billy thought it was, like, the cutest fucking thing ever. He lightly tugged at Steve's hair. Steve moaned softly against his lips. Billy wanted— _needed_ —to hear that sound again. He pulled Steve's hair again, slightly harder this time. He got his wish...and then some. Steve moaned again, deeper. Billy felt Steve's hand travel down his back all the way down to his ass, grabbing at him through the denim. Billy gasped—just slightly, like, barely at all, he wasn't some _prude—_ into Steve's mouth. 

"This okay?" Steve whispered into his ear.

"Yeah, totally," Billy nodded. His breath hitched as Steve kissed the skin just below his earlobe. 

Steve pulled Billy away from the closed door and guided him so that he was leaning against the counter. The edge dug into Billy's back but he didn't care. Couldn't care, with Steve pressed against him, groping his ass and pressing kisses down the line of his neck like _that,_ with his teeth and tongue just slightly grazing and teasing his skin. His whole body felt like it was vibrating. He wasn't even that buzzed from the beer-and-a-half he drank. Billy bit his lip to stifle a moan. 

It was a good thing the music in the living room was at full blast, pumping from the expensive-looking speakers that Tina had.

They went back to kissing. More passionately now, almost frantic. No real technique, just a blur of lips, tongue, and teeth. Billy pulled Steve's hair some more and gripped his waist. Steve pushed his pelvis closer against Billy's. 

He was hard. Billy could feel it through his jeans (how could he _not_?). Billy was hard too, and honestly, he was a little bit surprised that he was. Not because he wasn't enjoying this. He was. It's just that he had only gotten hard one time since that whole Thing Back In June. Then again, the last time he _did_ get hard it had been when he was fantasizing about hooking up with Steve. 

Steve shifted a little, pressing his thigh between Billy's legs and lightly grinding up. Billy's breath caught in his throat. He could feel Steve's dick poking his leg. The last couple of times that Billy had been in the same space as another man's erect dick, it had been distinctly Not Good for him. Steve had already proven himself to be astronomically better and kinder than anyone Billy had been intimate with before (both willingly and not), but still, the fact that both he and Steve were hard and pressed together filled him with some vague undercurrent of panic. 

Which didn't make a lot of sense because Billy was, like, ninety-five percent sure that Steve wasn't the type of guy to spike his drink and leave him dazed and dizzy and bleeding at a stranger's house. 

_If you don't do something to get him off,_ a nasty voice in Billy's head sneered, _he's gonna lose interest in you and leave you for someone who's **not** a broken little faggot. _

"You feel so good," Steve whispered, their lips millimeters apart. "Love kissing you."

"Yeah?" 

Steve hummed and kissed Billy slower and deeper, like he was trying to make a point. Billy felt the coil in his stomach loosen, just a fragment. He tightened his grip on Steve's waist and pressed his thigh against Steve's bulge. Steve gasped softly into Billy's mouth. They continued like that for a minute, just kissing and holding each other and rocking against each other as Foreigner blasted from just beyond the door. Billy felt himself relax more as he realized that Steve wasn't going to push him to go any further. 

Which, weirdly enough, made Billy _really_ want to take things a step further. 

"Can I, uh," Billy asked between kisses, "Can I go down on you?"

He felt like a fucking idiot for asking. What kind of moron actually _verbalized_ that? What was _wrong_ with him? 

"You want to?" Steve said, gently stroking his thumb against Billy's jaw. Billy nipped at his finger; Steve huffed a laugh. 

"Fuck yeah, I do," Billy said, gaining a little bit more confidence.

He grazed his teeth over Steve's earlobe and felt him shudder against him. Steve squeezed his ass with both hands. Billy's cock twitched. A breathy whine escaped his throat before he could stop it. Steve squeezed again, harder this time.

"Fuck," Billy gasped against Steve's neck. 

Billy flipped them around so that Steve was leaning against the counter. They kissed as Billy unbuckled Steve's belt and undid his pants. He dropped down to his knees and pulled Steve's cock out. It was nice, as far as cocks went—fully hard and slightly curved upward and flushed and slightly glistening at the tip. 

It was also big. Like, Billy knew it would be because he saw it all the time in the locker room after practice, but it was, like, way different when it was hard and right in front of his face. Steve's cock was quite a bit bigger than Nate's had been. Billy didn't think he would be able to fit the whole thing in his mouth without choking. 

But he was sure as hell going to try. 

Without wasting another second, Billy ran his tongue up the entire length. Above him, Steve hissed. Billy wrapped a hand around the shaft and started teasing the head with his tongue, going in circles before pressing the tip of his tongue right up against the underside of the head. 

"Oh _Christ_ ," Steve gritted out, breathing heavily. 

Billy wrapped his lips around it, getting used to the sensation before taking Steve in deeper. He went as far as he could, stopping as soon as he felt his gag reflex react; he _so_ did not want to throw up on Steve's dick. He made up for the length he couldn't handle with his hand, squeezing and stroking in a way that felt good to him, and also felt good to Steve if the noises he was making were anything to go by. His lips stretched around Steve's cock as he sucked it.

"Shit, baby, just like that," Steve groaned. He kept making these jerky movements with his hands. Like, his hand would go out, like he wanted to touch Billy, but then quickly move away to grip the counter. 

Oh. Steve probably wanted to grab Billy's hair. But he didn't want to be, like, forceful or something. What a fucking _gentleman._ Lucky for Steve, Billy happened to love having his hair pulled. Billy pulled off for a second, looked up at Steve through his eyelashes, and gently took Steve's hand away from the counter and guided it to the back of his head. Steve bit his lip as he tangled his fingers in the blonde strands. Billy kept the eye contact and took him back in his mouth. Steve tightened his grip, just a little. Billy's eyes fluttered shut. He moaned around him and sucked a bit harder, his cheeks hollowing. He held onto Steve's hip for stability and started bobbing his head. 

"Oh, God," Steve breathed. His pulled a little harder on Billy's hair for a second before backing off a bit, still letting Billy set the pace. "Baby. _Baby._ Gonna...gonna cum..."

Billy hummed around him. He looked up at him again. Steve was already looking down at him, mouth slightly open, heavy lidded and pupils blown. The way he was looking Billy was like...disproportionate to what Billy was doing. Sure, Billy was giving him a blowjob, but Steve was looking at him like he was doing something special. Looking at him like...like Billy was more than a warm mouth. No one had ever looked at him like that before. 

He hummed around his cock again. Steve's breathing became heavy and labored. His hips thrust a bit against Billy's mouth. He didn't mind. Thought it was pretty hot, actually. Finally, Steve made a noise like he was choking, gripped Billy's hair harder and pushed his dick just _little_ further into Billy's mouth than Billy was comfortable with, and spilled over Billy's tongue. Billy pulled off and swallowed automatically. 

"Holy shit," Steve sighed, catching his breath. "C'mere..."

He pulled Billy to his feet and leaned in to kiss him. He lightly stroked the back of Billy's head where he had pulled his hair. And then gently pushed him against the wall and started undoing his jeans. Billy was, like, painfully hard. 

"It's okay, you don't have to," Billy found himself saying. He didn't want Steve to do something like this out of obligation. That would be shitty. 

"I want to," Steve murmured into his ear. "Been wanting to. Think I don't dream about all the ways I want to make you cum, Blondie? This is just first of many. That cool with you?"

Well... _shit_. Billy's breath hitched. 

"Yeah. Yeah, that's cool," Billy agreed. Steve smirked and got on his knees and pulled Billy's jeans and underwear down just enough so that his dick sprang out. A sharp knock at the door had Billy's head whipping around. 

"Occupied!" Steve shouted. 

"Come _on_ , I have to pee," a girl's voice answered back. 

"There's a bathroom upstairs!" Steve said in a tone that left no room for argument. 

Without any hesitation or preamble, Steve took Billy's entire cock into his mouth. 

"Oh _fuck_ ," Billy gasped. 

There was absolutely no way that this was Steve's first time giving a blowjob. Not with the way he was so expertly sucking and bobbing his head and teasing the length and head with his tongue. His mouth was so hot and soft. Steve had only been at it for a minute or so, but there was no way in hell Billy was going to last much longer. He was too keyed up as it was. 

Steve's hands trailed up Billy's thighs and crept back to his ass. Billy bit back a whine and grabbed onto Steve's shoulder to ground himself. Steve moaned; the vibrations sent shocks of pleasure to his entire body. 

"'m close," Billy managed to choke out. 

Steve, ever so lightly, ran a dry finger up his crack. 

Billy slammed his hand against his mouth, biting down hard to muffle his moan as he came. Steve licked his lips and stood up, smirking again. 

"Shut up," Billy said as caught his breath, trying not to laugh. 

"I didn't say anything," Steve teased. 

They kissed again, slower this time, without the urgency that they had earlier. Someone knocked on the door. 

"Occupied!" they shouted together. 

"Jesus Christ, still?" a guy complained. 

"We're doing drugs!" Billy yelled. Steve laughed.

"Yeah, we're almost done," Steve added. "You good?" he asked Billy. 

"Yeah," Billy nodded. "Are you good?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

They fixed their clothes and hair so that they didn't look like they had been fooling around with each other. Billy grabbed his beer as Steve opened the door. A pissed off and absolutely shit-faced Anthony DeLisi was on the other end of it. Billy didn't know him too well, but knew that he was in his class and was on the football team. 

"What drugs were you guys doin'? he slurred. 

"Coke," Billy lied. 

"Got any more?"

"No, sorry, man," Steve said. 

"Fuckin' freshmen," DeLisi grumbled, pushing past them to get into powder room. 

Billy and Steve looked at each other and burst out laughing. Billy checked his watch. The pre-planned hour was up. He and Steve made their way to meet up with Nancy and Jonathan to check in.

* * *

They ended up leaving Tina's party early. Billy really didn't mind. He started the drive to drop off his friends. 

"Hey, Nance," Steve asked. 

"Yeah?" Nancy asked from the backseat where she was sitting with Jonathan. 

"What do you think about Tom Cruise?"

Billy chuckled. 

"What do you mean?" Nancy said. 

"Like," Steve continued. "If you thought about Tom Cruise, what would be the thought first thing that popped into your head?"

"I don't...actor? Movie star? I don't know," she said, laughing a little. 

"Don't you think there's something off about him?" Billy asked. "Like, fundamentally off. Like, there's something _weird_ about him."

"Hey, come on, don't give her leading questions," Steve complained. 

"I mean," Nancy said. "He has a tooth in the center of his face."

"Wait, what?" Billy laughed. 

"She's right," Jonathan spoke up. "Tom Cruise's top teeth are like, not aligned right, so he has a tooth right in the middle of his face."

"You're full of shit, Byers," Steve shook his head.

"It's true!" Nancy insisted. "Look at a photo of him where he's smiling. You won't be able to un-see it."

"Okay," Steve said resolutely. "Do you guys think that Tom Cruise is in a cult?"

"No," Jonathan laughed. 

"Not yet," Nancy shrugged. "But someday, probably."

Steve sighed dramatically and leaned back in his seat. Billy turned to him and stuck his tongue out. Steve laughed quietly and rolled his eyes. 

Billy dropped off Nancy first, and then Steve since Jonathan lived pretty close to him. After he dropped Steve off, Jonathan got in the front seat for the rest of the ride. 

"So," Jonathan said cautiously. "Nancy and I are kind of a thing now."

"Nice," Billy said. He had been fucking right about them. "That's awesome, man."

"Yeah."

"I mean, you guys are happy, right?"

"Yeah," Jonathan said. "Totally happy. It's just...I don't want things to be weird with Steve. You know? Like, we _just_ started being friends and he was in love with her. I mean, they dated for a year, you know?"

Billy nodded. 

"You and Steve are pretty close, right?" Jonathan asked. 

"I guess so, yeah," Billy shrugged. 

"Do you think he's over her?" Jonathan asked. "I mean, has he _said_ anything?"

"He's totally over her," Billy said. "So. You are in the clear on that one man." He playfully punched Jonathan in the shoulder. He seemed to relax. 

"Any decent rock stations reach this shithole town of yours?" Billy asked. 

"Watch it, Hargrove," Jonathan grinned, reaching for the radio dial. "This is your shithole town now, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to practice good consent and be careful of the things you drink, guys!!
> 
> Next Up: 
> 
> Chapter Title: "I can't talk to my mom anymore."
> 
> Nancy gets Max alone for a few hours under the guise of shopping for an outfit to wear to the Snow Ball. Obviously they end up discussing more serious matters.


	14. "I can't talk to my mom anymore."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Saturday, December 8, 1984)
> 
> Nancy takes Max shopping for an outfit to wear to the Snow Ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going into Nancy's POV this chapter, girls, gays, and theys! We're also about to pass the Bechdel Test lol
> 
> Content warnings: referenced child abuse

Nancy parked her mother's car in front of 5280 Old Cherry Road and started up the steps leading to Billy and Max's house. As she approached the door, she hoped that Max was actually home and that she hadn't driven out here for nothing. Well, if Billy was home, she'd hang with him for a bit. But today, she wasn't here for Billy; she was there for his sister. 

She knocked on the door, and a second later heard a muffled woman's voice on the other side, saying, "I don't know, hon, check the dryer."

The woman, presumably Mrs. Hargrove, opened the door. The first thing Nancy noticed about her was her hair; it was the exact shade of red that Max's was. 

"Hi," Nancy said. "Mrs. Hargrove?"

The woman smiled a bit and nodded. 

"I'm Nancy Wheeler," Nancy introduced herself. "I'm friends with Billy."

"Oh so _you're_ the famous Nancy!" Mrs. Hargrove said warmly, her smile widening a bit. "Nice to finally meet you. Come on in, Billy's in his room. You two have plans today?"

"Actually, I'm here for Max," Nancy said, stepping inside. "Is she home?"

"You're here for Max?" Mrs. Hargrove asked, as if she couldn't believe it. Nancy didn't blame her. After all, why would a sixteen-year-old be interesting in spending time with a eight grader? It was objectively strange. 

"Yes!" Nancy smiled. "She's friends with my little brother Mike. I don't know if she's told you, but there's a dance at the middle school in two weeks. The Snow Ball. I'm volunteering to help out, actually. Anyway, I was going to go into town to do some shopping for the dance, and was wondering if maybe Max wanted to join me?"

"Well, aren't you sweet!" Mrs. Hargrove said. "I'm sure Max would love to go with you. She's in her room. Come on, I'll bring you back."

Nancy followed Mrs. Hargrove through the entryway. On the way to Max's room, they passed the small living room and the kitchen. Nancy saw the place at the table where Mrs. Hargrove had been sitting: the chair was pulled out and on the tabletop sat a mug of still-steaming tea, a notebook with a pen resting on it, and an open workbook or study book of some kind. 

Nancy wasn't surprised that Mrs. Hargrove was so ready and happy to hand Max over to her. Adults tended to trust her. It had been that way her entire life. They saw her small stature, understated clothes, and natural makeup and all seemed to have it in their minds that these superficial things meant that Nancy was Mature and Sweet and Trustworthy. Adults trusted her to babysit their kids. Teachers trusted her to help grade tests. Her friends' parents trusted her to not be a bad influence. 

_Her_ parents somehow still trusted her, even after everything that happened last year.

Barb's parents had trusted her. They were still friendly to her, even after the bullshit diluted story about their daughter's fate was brought to light. Barb's mother had hugged her at the memorial service last Sunday. Nancy found herself wishing that she had spit in her face instead. 

Mrs. Hargrove brought her down the hall, where the bedrooms were. The Hargrove's house was a lot smaller than the one she lived in. Definitely smaller than Steve's. It was homey though. In the few months that they had lived there, they had already decorated the house with various figurines and vases and seashells and family photos. In the hallway, there was a framed photograph of Billy and Max when they were younger that Nancy couldn't help but look at for a minute. Billy's hair was shorter and Max's was braided in the photo. Billy's arm was around Max and both wore wide, happy kid smiles. In the background of the photo was a rollercoaster.

"We took the kids to Magic Mountain," Mrs. Hargrove supplied with a small smile when she saw Nancy staring. "It's a theme park in Santa Clarita, back in California. I think Billy was thirteen when we went, which would have made Max ten. God, seems like a lifetime ago."

Mrs. Hargrove opened the door to Max's room. 

"Hey, Max?" she said poking her head in. "You have a visitor." She beckoned Nancy over. 

"Hey!" Nancy said, stepping into the doorway. Mrs. Hargrove walked away, leaving the two girls. Max was sitting on her bed, reading a Wonder Woman comic. Like her mother, she seemed surprised that Nancy was there for her. 

"Uh, hey," Max said, sitting up a bit straighter. "What's up?"

"Wanted to take you shopping for the Snow Ball," Nancy said. "You in?"

"Yeah!" Max nodded eagerly. "Yeah, totally I'm in. I can be ready in five minutes. That cool?"

"Of course!" Nancy said. She turned to leave Max to it and then asked, "Which door is your brother's room?"

"Oh," Max said. Her face dropped, just a fraction. Did she think that Nancy had the hots for Billy? Nancy wanted to kick herself. "It's the one next door."

Nancy smiled her thanks and closed Max's door behind her. She knocked on Billy's door. 

_Does Max know Billy's gay?_ she thought. 

"Yeah?" Billy's voice answered. Nancy pushed the door open. 

"Hey," she said.

"Hey!" Billy answered. A pile of folded laundry was on his bed and he was shirtless for some reason. "Sorry, did we have plans?"

"No," Nancy said. "I'm actually here for your sister. I'm taking her shopping."

Billy stared at her incredulously. 

" _You_ are taking _Maxine_ shopping?" he asked in disbelief.

"Sure am," Nancy grinned. "Girls trip. No boys allowed."

"You wound me," Billy teased. He turned around and got a shirt from the laundry pile. He had a cluster of bruises on his back, near his shoulder. He pulled a t-shirt on and turned back to face her; Nancy looked at his wall, hoping he didn't catch her staring. 

"Interesting decor choice," she said, nodding towards his poster of Shauna Grant. Billy snorted. 

"Gotta keep up appearances, right?" he said, his voice so low that Nancy barely heard him. She couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for him. Billy couldn't even be comfortable with himself—every part of himself—in his own home. How shitty was that?

"Sorry," Nancy said. 

"No big deal," Billy shrugged. He opened up a dresser drawer and started putting his laundry away. 

"So," Nancy said changing the subject. "You got any plans next Friday night? The 21st."

"I don't even know what I'm doing ten minutes from now," Billy said. Nancy laughed. 

"Okay, well, I volunteered to help out at the Snow Ball at the middle school—" 

"Wait, did you actually volunteer?" Billy interrupted. "Or were you volun-told?"

"I _volunteered_ ," Nancy laughed. "I think you should come help out too!"

"No way, chica."

"Come on," Nancy cajoled. 

"Hard pass."

"Jonathan's going to be there too. He's doing the photography."

"What's your job going to be?" Billy said, hanging a a button down shirt up in his closet. "Gonna go around the dance floor and make sure the brats are leaving room for Jesus?"

"God, no," Nancy rolled her eyes. "I think I'm just there to help with tickets or punch or something."

"Well, have fun with that."

"It's not like you have other plans!" Nancy pointed out. 

"I might have plans," Billy laughed. "I just don't know about them yet."

"Fine," Nancy sighed dramatically. "I guess I can ask Steve if he'll help."

Billy raised an eyebrow. 

"Do you think Steve is actually going to be into that?"

"Maybe," Nancy shrugged. 

"Tell you what, Wheeler," Billy said. "If Steve takes you up on this _incredible_ opportunity, I'll come too."

"Great, you're on."

The door swung open. Max was there; she had brushed her hair and changed her shirt.

"Ready to go?" she asked. 

"Yup!" Nancy smiled. 

"You might want to knock next time," Billy said. "We could have been making out or something."

"Yeah right," Max snarked. "Nancy's way too cool for you."

"Dick," Billy drawled. Max smirked and flipped him the bird. 

* * *

"There's this cool boutique on Main Street," Nancy said in the car. "Really cute dresses."

"I don't really wear dresses," Max said. 

"That's fine," Nancy nodded. "They have other great clothes besides dresses."

"Cool."

"Hey so," Nancy started. "I actually just wanted to spend some time with you and check in with you. See how you're doing with...well, with everything that happened."

"Oh," Max said, surprised. "Um, I'm okay I guess."

"It's a lot to handle," Nancy said. "Especially when you're thrown into it without any warning."

"Yeah," Max said quietly. 

"Last year," Nancy said. "I thought I was going to go crazy. I mean, we found out about this crazy, like...alternate dimension. You know? And we saw and fought these monsters that we never could have imagined existed. And it's not like we could talk to anyone, really. No one besides each other, at least. It's scary. You know? And it's isolating as hell."

Max bit her lip and nodded. Nancy hoped she wasn't about to cry; that was _so_ not her intention. 

"Anyway," Nancy continued. "I just mean that it would be totally normal if you were still, I don't know, not quite a hundred percent yet, coping-wise. Like, no one would expect you to be."

"I keep having dreams about those things," Max said. "The demodogs. I keep dreaming that they're coming into the house and I can't find anything to defend myself. And sometimes they get Billy but other times, he's not even there, or he's already dead."

Nancy nodded. 

"I almost slept in Billy's room a couple times," Max admitted. "I didn't. Like, I came close a few times, but I...you know...pulled myself together."

"Have you talked to him at all about this?" Nancy asked. "He's probably just as freaked out as you are."

"Not really," Max said. "He has his own problems. He doesn't need mine too."

"You guys are pretty close though, right?" Nancy asked. "I mean, you're together a lot."

"Yeah, we are," Max nodded. She hesitated and added. "We kind of have to be, you know?"

"I'm not very close with Mike," Nancy said after a pause. "I love him, and I guess he loves me, but we don't really hang out or talk about, well, anything really. We have each other's backs when it matters though."

"That's good," Max said. "That's what counts." 

She paused again. 

"I can't talk to my mom anymore," she finally said. "I mean, I _can_ and I do, it's just...I don't know. Every time I talk to her, I feel like I'm lying to her because she can't know about everything that happened. Everything we _did._ "

"Yeah," Nancy said softly. "I kind of feel the same way about my mom. She's great, but yeah, like you said, she can never know about this huge thing in my life."

Max was quiet for a moment. Nancy pulled into a parking lot off of Main Street. 

"Listen," Nancy said. "You can always talk to me. You know? And if you really need, like, a _mom_ to talk to, you can also talk to Mrs. Byers. I talk to her all the time. She's incredible and she's, like, the one adult who actually knows about this. You know, besides Hopper."

"Yeah, I don't think I'd want to go talk to Hopper," Max laughed a little. 

"Hey, Hopper's not too bad either," Nancy laughed. 

* * *

They browsed through the different sections at Miss Angie's Beauty and Boutique. Max got a sweater and a new barrette. Nancy got a new dress. On the ride back to Max's house, they chatted about school and movies and books. Nancy was telling Max about the Jane Austen book she was reading for English when Max suddenly interrupted her. 

"Billy's dad hits him," she blurted out. 

" _What_?" Nancy asked. She pulled over on the side of the road and turned to Max. Max was looking down at her lap. "Max..."

"Please don't tell anyone," she begged, looking up. Her eyes were filled with tears. "I shouldn't have even told you, I shouldn't have said anything, I've...I've never told anyone."

"I won't tell anyone," Nancy said softly. "I promise. Hey, come here..."

Nancy leaned over the center console and wrapped her arms around Max. Max hugged her back, her body hitching with quiet sobs. Nancy hugged her tighter, rubbing her back a little. She thought about the bruises on Billy's back. She thought about Billy coming to school the Tuesday after they fought the Mind Flayer looking like he'd been beat to hell and thought about how she so easily bought his story about all that damage coming from his fight with Tommy. She thought about how he started school at Hawkins High with what was most definitely a fading black eye. 

Max calmed down a little. They gently broke away from the embrace. Nancy opened up the glove compartment and handed Max the box of tissues her mother always kept in there. 

"Does your mom..." Nancy trailed off, unsure of how she wanted to end the question. Max blew her nose. 

"She knows he hits him," she said bitterly. "She sees Neil, like, slap him in the face and...and sometimes she sees him push him around. She doesn't _do_ anything about it."

"Maybe she can't," Nancy pointed out gently. Max shrugged. 

"Neil gets really scary when he's like that," she said softly. "When he gets, like, scary mad he's like...like some monster. He hits Billy, he slams doors, he _yells_ at us..."

"Does he ever hit you?"

"No," Max shook her head. The unsaid _not yet_ hung heavily between them. 

"He doesn't normally get, like, _that_ bad though when my mom is there," she said. "I don't even think my mom knows how bad it can get. How bad _Neil_ can get."

"You've never told her?" Nancy asked. Max shook her head. 

"What would I even say?" Max scoffed. "'Hey, Mom, when you're not home, the man I'm supposed to think of as my dad beats the shit out of my brother'?"

"I don't know," Nancy said softly. Max sniffled. 

"Neil doesn't do it all the time," she said. "Like...I know it sounds crazy, but when he's not being an asshole, he can actually be nice. Like...I don't know. He asks me about my day, and asks me about school, and says 'good job' when I get good grades. And it's like...most of the time he's a decent dad, but it never lasts. And, like...when he's being nice, it's great, but you're always just waiting for something to set him off. And when something _does_ set him off, no one can do anything about it. We just have to...wait until it's over."

"I'm sorry," Nancy said. "God, I'm so sorry Max. You don't deserve that. Neither of you do."

Max took a few deep breaths, composing herself. 

"You really promise not to tell anyone?" Max asked. 

"I swear I won't, Max," Nancy said. She held up three fingers. "Scout's honor."

Max gave her a small smile. Nancy started the engine up again. And then paused. 

"Hey, Max," she began. She considered whether or not she was really going to say what she wanted to say. She knew that it could, and probably would, come back to bite her in the ass one day.

Fuck it.

"Do you want to learn how to shoot a gun?"

* * *

Later that night, after dinner, Nancy found her father in his home office, where she knew she's find him, because for every night she could remember, weekend or weeknight, after dinner her dad would go into his home office to double check the to-do lists he had made for himself that day. Ted Wheeler was predictable. He was reliable and maybe a little boring. He also never raised his voice to her mother or to her or her siblings. He certainly never hit any of them. 

Maybe Nancy had totally been taking that for granted. 

She walked into her dad's office without knocking, because her dad never closed the door. 

"Hey," her dad said, looking up at her over his glasses. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," she shrugged. "How's the to-do list?"

"Got mostly everything done," he said. "I just need to pull some papers together to file a motion in court on Monday."

"Cool," Nancy nodded. Her dad put his pen down and walked around the desk to leave the office. Nancy hesitated for a second before hugging him. It was a little awkward; she and her dad didn't hug much. Not anymore at least. They used to. When Nancy was a little girl, she used to stand on her dad's feet and they would dance around the living room together. 

"Well this is a nice surprise," he chuckled. He hugged her back.

"Love you, Dad," she said softly. 

"I love you, too, Scout," he said. He used to call Nancy that sometimes when she was a kid. Like he was Atticus Finch and she was Scout from _To Kill a Mockingbird_. Hearing the old nickname made her want to cry for some reason. 

She wondered if she truly hadn't been giving her father enough credit over the years. Or if the bar for fathers was absurdly low. Either way, Billy's dad was scum. Nancy fell asleep thinking about how satisfying it would be to shoot Neil Hargrove through the skull. 


	15. "He wouldn't have left his car here."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Friday, December 21, 1984)
> 
> The kids aren't the only ones having fun the night of the Snow Ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be smut in this one, mates ;)
> 
> Also, we're getting a little bit more of Nancy's POV! And, like, a second of Steve's!
> 
> Also, yes, I know in canon Billy was wearing a short-sleeved shirt the night of the Snow Ball, but let's be real: it's winter in Indiana and Billy's tolerance for cold weather is likely suuuper weak because he grew up in Southern California. So I changed that detail.
> 
> Content warnings: Frottage, anal fingering, referenced child abuse

The winter dance at the middle school was that night and the under-thirty crowd at the Hargrove-Mayfield house was buzzing with excited. Or rather, Billy and Max were both filled with anticipation and pretending not to care at all about the evening. Max was putting on an act like she didn't give a shit about the rite of passage that was a middle school dance, but it didn't change the fact that she was wearing the sweater that she bought with Nancy and the corduroy pants that were _just_ a bit more form-fitting than her usual jeans, and the fact that she was letting her mom do her hair, using her new barrette. 

Billy was pretending to not care about the dance and was putting on a performance that he was just a little bit annoyed that he was spending his Friday night taking his sister to the Snow Ball. Well, the part about Billy not caring about the dance was true—he really didn't care about that detail. But he and Steve had agreed to meet up in the middle school parking lot that night. Steve had volunteered to drive that Dustin kid to and from the dance. Steve told him that the two had really bonded when they were hunting demodogs. It made sense to Billy; people formed bonds over living through trauma. Hell, trauma was part of the reason he and Steve and Nancy and Jonathan were so tight. 

He liked to think that he and Max were close because they actually, genuinely liked each other. But, still, living together under Neil's roof probably pushed their relationship further together. 

"You almost ready to go?" Billy asked, leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom, where Susan was doing Max's hair. 

"Just putting the finishing touches on," Susan said with a smile. She combed her fingers through Max's long red hair, fluffing it a bit. She grabbed a can of her hairspray, shook it up, and sprayed a few puffs. Max rolled her eyes and made an exaggerated cough. 

"Okay, I'm ready," Max said. 

"Wait just one minute!" Susan said. "I want to get a photo of you."

Max groaned. Billy followed them out to the living room and watched Max stand in front of their Christmas tree while Susan snapped photos on her camera, Neil looking away from the television to watch it happen.

Suddenly Billy was smacked in the face with a memory from when he was nine: he was getting ready to leave the house to go trick or treating and his mother kept insisting that she take just _one more picture, Billy, come on, just one more and then you can leave_. Billy had groaned and complained and rolled his eyes and gave the most insincere, sarcastic smile for the last photo. Maybe if he had just sucked it up and let his mother take as many pictures as she wanted without giving her attitude, she wouldn't have left him. 

"Mom, come on, you've taken, like five," Max complained.

"Just two more," Susan insisted. "Billy, get in this one."

Billy moved to stand next to Max. He wasn't expecting to get his photo taken that night, but he had dressed well to see Steve; he had put on his good jeans and a light blue sweater. He smiled brightly as Susan snapped a photo. 

"Okay, one more. Keep smiling guys, this one's for Nana," Susan said cheerfully.

* * *

As they drove to the middle school, Billy saw Max fish something out of her pocket out of the corner of his eye. She unfolded the passenger seat visor mirror. 

"Whatcha got there, Max?" Billy asked, even though he had a pretty good idea what she was doing. Max ignored him and proceeded to apply some pale pink lipstick. Billy paid attention to the road, carefully avoiding a pothole and keeping a steady course. 

"Maxine," Billy gasped. "Is that _lipstick_ you're putting on?"

"Shut up," Max grumbled. 

"I think I might have some craft glitter in the glove compartment," Billy teased. "You're more than welcome to use it."

"Fuck off. You don't even _like_ glitter."

"What's up your ass?" Billy asked. "You nervous about tonight?"

"No," Max muttered. She was lying. 

"Hey," Billy said more sincerely. "You look really pretty. You're gonna have a great time. Trust me."

"Thanks," Max smiled. 

They pulled up to the school. Billy parked his car. 

"It ends at nine," Max reminded him. 

"Got it," Billy nodded. "Get in there. Knock 'em dead."

Max stifled a laugh and got out. Billy was only waiting in his car for about ten minutes before he saw Steve's Beemer pull in and Dustin get out of the car. Steve swung the car around to park in the lot next to Billy. He rolled down his window; Billy rolled down his. 

"Fancy meeting you here, Harrington," Billy drawled. 

"Get in the car, you dork," Steve laughed. Billy rolled his window up and got out of the Camaro, barely remembering to lock it. He slid into Steve's passenger seat. Steve started driving immediately. 

"We have two hours," Billy said. "You know a place?"

"Lake Jordan?" Steve suggested. 

"Sure."

Steve smiled and rested a hand on Billy's thigh. Billy took it with his own and interlaced their fingers. 

* * *

They weren't alone at Lake Jordan; there were two or three other people parked near the lake's edge that Billy could see, but the cars were all far apart from each other. He was glad they they had taken Steve's car here. The Camaro would be far too noticeable.

"So is this, like, the official Hawkins make out spot?" Billy asked. 

"I mean, there _is_ a Lovers' Lake, but it's pretty played-out," Steve smiled. "Got any big plans for Winter Break?"

"Nah," Billy shook his head. "We're going to Susan's sister's house for Christmas, but beyond that, I don't have anything going on."

"Which sister? The super religious one?"

"God, no. We're going to Aunt Deirdre's. She's the normal one. The fundie one is Aunt Marjorie. You doing anything that day?"

"We were going to go to my aunt and uncle's house in Chicago for Christmas, but they're gonna come to our's instead," Steve said. "Thank fuck, too. Chicago's cold as shit this time of year."

"It's cold as shit here," Billy pointed. 

"It's not really," Steve teased. "Your blood's just thin, California Boy."

"My parents are probably not going to be around during the day much next week on the other days," he continued. "You could come over and hang out if you want."

"Oh yeah?" Billy grinned. "What's over at your house?"

"Hmm," Steve pretended to consider. "Got some records, some movies, and, uh, I think there's even a bed or two...."

"Very smooth," Billy teased, leaning in for a kiss. 

They made out for a bit in the front seats, getting as close as they could over the center console. Steve pulled away.

"You want to, uh," Steve gestured to the backseat. 

"What, you think I'm some backseat slut, King Steve?" Billy cocked an eyebrow. 

"Are you?" Steve asked, matching his expression. Billy laughed and climbed over into the backseat. Steve followed.

With a boost of confidence, Billy found himself on top of Steve, straddling his lap, and kissing him. Steve hummed appreciatively and ran his palms up and down Billy's thighs. Billy teased his lower lip with his tongue before easing it into Steve's mouth. Steve sucked on it for a second before massaging it with his own. His hands made their way to Billy's ass, lightly squeezing, grazing the top of Billy's waistband with his thumbs. Billy broke their lips apart to kiss down Steve's neck. Steve's breathing became heavy. He took a hand off Billy's ass to grab at his hair. He pulled Billy's head to the side and sucked a bruise high on his neck, just under and behind his ear. Billy let out a short moan before biting his lip, trapping the noise. He felt himself stiffen in his jeans. He ground down into Steve's lap and pressed his lips against his again. 

They ground against each other, hands groping, squeezing, and caressing each other's bodies. Their kisses grew deeper. Billy was vaguely aware that the windows of the Beemer were steaming up, further cloaking them in darkness, like they were in their own little world where nothing and no one existed but them. Steve's hand trailed up under Billy's sweater, stroking the bare skin of his back. 

"Wanna take this off?" Steve asked softly between kisses.

Billy still had a bruise on his left upper arm from Monday, when he made some snarky joke that he couldn't even remember, and Neil had grabbed him and gotten in his face.

_You think that's funny?_

_No, sir._

The bruise was almost completely faded, but Billy was still aware of it. 

"It's too cold," he whispered, shaking his head. Steve rubbed his hands briskly up and down Billy's arms, creating friction. Billy laughed. 

"Wanna touch you," Steve murmured against his lips. 

"Yeah?" 

"Mmhm. Can I?"

Billy nodded eagerly. Steve undid Billy's pants with one move and wrapped a hand around his cock. Billy hissed at the contact.

"Can I—," Billy touched Steve over his straining jeans. 

"'Course you can, baby."

The next few seconds were a blur of movement, of clothing being unfastened and adjusted, of hands joining around their hard cocks, rubbing the hot, silky skin together with only spit and precum for lube. Billy bit his lip and ground against Steve over and over, holding the seatback behind him for some stability, like he was riding him. Steve groaned. His hand that wasn't holding their dicks together was down the back of Billy's jeans, gripping a cheek so hard, Billy thought it might leave a bruise. He hoped it would. 

"God, _Steve_ ," Billy gasped. It felt too good. The speed, the contact, the almost on the edge of painful friction between them. His whole body felt electric. Beneath him, Steve was making the hottest noises, his mouth slack and his brow furrowed. Steve was so fucking pretty like this. He was gorgeous always, but now? There was the added element of seeing his face screw up in pleasure. Pleasure that Billy was responsible for. Billy bent his head down to join their lips again. Steve kissed back hungrily, moaning into his mouth. Steve's fingers trailed down Billy's crack, just lightly. Teasing the skin there. Billy's breath hitched. He wanted more. He _needed_ more.

Steve took his hand away. Billy whined at the loss. 

"Open your mouth," Steve said, his eyes dark. Billy shivered and parted his lips. Steve slipped two fingers in. Billy automatically closed his mouth around them, swirling his tongue around and between them. Bobbing his head like he was blowing Steve's fingers. Getting them good and wet. 

"Fuck, baby, just like that," Steve breathed. "God, that's so hot."

Billy moaned around his fingers, still moving his hips against Steve's. Steve took his fingers away and put his hand back into Billy's pants. He teased the rim of Billy's opening with the pad of one finger, rubbing it, slowly but steadily increasing pressure. 

"Oh _fuck. Steve_ , _please_ ," Billy begged breathlessly. 

Steve captured Billy's lips as he smoothly slipped one finger inside. Billy moaned as Steve started slowly pumping his finger in and and out. His hips stuttered and his grip on the seatback tightened when Steve's finger grazed that one spot inside him. 

" _Oh God,_ " Billy gritted out, his voice sounding broken.

"Right there?" Steve asked. His voice had dropped at least an octave. It gave Billy goosebumps.

"Yeah, yeah, right there, right there," he nodded frantically. Steve groaned and rubbed the spot more deliberately, with just a bit more pressure. 

Pleasure sparked up and down Billy's spine, settling burningly in his pelvis. He could hardly hold himself upright anymore. He rested his forehead against Steve's, their lips millimeters apart, not really kissing, but sharing the same breath. Sharing the same desperate moans as Billy continued to grind their cocks together, powering through his shaking, trembling thighs, and the hot buildup of pleasure that threatened to spill over any second. 

Steve came first, but only by a split second. His broken groan as he climaxed pushed Billy over the edge; he turned his face and bit down on his arm to muffle the sound. They didn't move for a few moments, staying in the same position to catch their breath. Steve withdrew his finger; Billy shivered and moved off of him to sit in the seat next to him. Steve reached over into the front seat and grabbed a box of Kleenex from the glove compartment. He handed the box to Billy before taking a few for himself. Wordlessly, the two cleaned themselves up and fixed their clothes. Steve leaned over to kiss Billy. Billy smiled into it, his heart still pounding in his chest and his limbs still shaking. 

"So," Billy said, his voice still breathy. "You said you have beds at your house and maybe no parents?"

Steve laughed and kissed him again. He brushed a lock of hair out of Billy's face. He glanced at his watch. His eyes widened. 

" _Shit,_ " Steve swore. 

* * *

Nancy crossed her arms over her chest as she took in the situation unfolding around her. The Snow Ball had ended fifteen minutes ago and yet they were all still at the school. "They", meaning her, Jonathan, Mike, Will, Lucas, Dustin, Max, El, Mrs. Byers, and Hopper. Everyone else had cleared off, except for Mr. Clark, who was waiting inside for all of them to leave so that he could fulfill his duties as an official chaperone and ensure that all of the kids had made it safely off school grounds. 

Billy's car was in the parking lot. He and Steve, who were supposed to pick up Max and Dustin respectively, were nowhere to be found. Also missing was Steve's car. 

It didn't take a genius to deduce that the two were more likely than not together somewhere and had lost track of time. 

Of course, that theory was dampened somewhat with the lingering fear that something monstrous from the Upside Down was still lurking in Hawkins. Nancy tried to hold her worry at bay. After all, the kids were already voicing their thoughts about the exact same thing. 

"He knows what time the dance ended," Max said. "What if something happened?"

"Max, I'm sure Billy just, I don't know, went off with Steve somewhere," Nancy said, trying to assuage her fear. 

"He wouldn't have left his car here," Max insisted. 

"Do you think you should send someone out to look for them?" Nancy heard Mrs. Byers say quietly to Hopper. "Maybe they're having some car trouble or something."

"Let's give it ten minutes," Hopper said, shaking his head. 

Max sat down on the curb next to El, who was sitting next to Mike. Lucas sat beside Max and hesitantly put his arm around her shoulders. Nancy saw Dustin watch them all out of the corner of his eye before sitting down a few feet away. Her heart ached for him. She had hoped that dancing with him would cheer him up, and to be fair, it did. For the moment. But now it seemed that the reality of the night, the dashed hopes and anticipation of dancing with a girl who _wasn't_ his friend's sister was settling in. She wanted to hug him. She knew it would make everything worse. 

Will sat down next to him. He was a good kid. Nancy had always liked him. 

A cold wind breezed over them. She shivered, the back of her neck feeling way to exposed because of her updo. She hadn't listened to her mom's advice to wear a coat. Wordlessly, Jonathan took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, wrapping an arm around her. She couldn't help but smile as her belly filled with warmth. 

"That was really nice of you," he whispered in her ear. "Dancing with Dustin. He'll never forget that."

She turned her head and kissed him softly. 

"They're totally okay, right?" she whispered. "Steve and Billy, I mean."

"Yeah, totally," Jonathan assured her. "Steve keeps his bat in the trunk."

"You know, technically that's _my_ bat," Nancy pointed out. "You just modified it and then Steve took it."

"Maybe it's everyone's bat," Jonathan teased. Nancy giggled. 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Nancy wondered if Billy had told Steve that he was gay. Which led her to wonder if Steve had told Billy that _he_ played for both teams. Last year, after everything had settled down, Steve had opened up to Nancy in a way that she suspected was new to him. He had told her about the boys he had slept with the summer before they had started dating. Boys that he had met on that teen tour through Europe that his parents had sent him on. 

He had expected her to freak out. To call him names. To break up with him. Nancy would never. She would _never_. She had loved Steve. She'd been head-over-heels in love with him. She _still_ loved Steve, but in a different way. Now she loved Steve the same way that she had loved Barb. The memory of what she had said to him on Halloween still gutted her even though he had assured her, multiple times, that they were past all that. 

"There they are," she heard Lucas say. 

Sure enough, Steve's Beemer was speeding into the lot, parking next to Billy's Camaro. Nancy and Jonathan watched Billy and Steve practically launch themselves out of the car, speed walking over to them, both saying a series of _Sorry, sorry, sorry!_

"We totally lost track of time," Billy said in rush. 

"Yeah, we're _so_ sorry," Steve added. 

"Really, boys?" Mrs. Byers scolded, instantly switching on her Concerned Mom voice. "With everything that happened? We were worried sick!"

"We're so sorry, Mrs. Byers," Billy said sincerely. Steve nodded.

"Where were you?" Hopper asked. 

"Just out for a drive," Steve said quickly. 

"Uh huh," Hopper said, looking closely at both of them. "You boys been drinking?"

"No, sir," Steve said.

"Smoke any grass tonight?"

"No, sir," Billy shook his head. He was tenser than Steve was. Billy had been tense like that when he had met her dad last week, when he had been over her house studying for another biology test. Nancy understood why he was tense around adult men and it broke her heart. 

"Uh huh," Hopper repeated, as if he didn't quite believe them. "Straight home, boys. You hear me?"

"Yes, sir," they said in unison. 

They all began to disperse. Jonathan and Will got into Joyce's car with her (Nancy had driven Jonathan to the dance earlier so that they could help set up); El and Hop climbed into the Blazer; Nancy shepherded Mike and Lucas into her (mom's) car; Dustin slid into Steve's Beemer; Max hopped into Billy's Camaro. 

Hopper and Joyce drove off first. Nancy paused before turning the key in the ignition. Billy and Steve hadn't gotten into their cars yet. Steve said something to Billy. Nancy couldn't hear it, but whatever Steve said made Billy laugh and look down, almost shyly. She watched them walk past each other to get to their respective cars. She watched Steve subtly, _so subtly_ that it was almost imperceptible, brush one finger against one of Billy's as they did so. 

_Holy shit._

"Nance?" Mike said, snapping Nancy out of it. Mike hadn't been watching them; he was in the backseat with Lucas, chatting about something.

"Seat belts," she reminded them. She started up the car.

* * *

In the Camaro, Max and Billy were both buzzing in their seats. Billy was pretending to be completely neutral. Bored, almost. 

"Sorry I was late," he said. 

"It's okay," Max said. 

"You have a good time?"

"Yeah," Max said. Billy could hear the smile in her voice. "I um...I kissed Lucas."

"Awww, that's so cute," Billy said teasingly. He meant it though. That was really adorable. He was glad that Max felt like she could tell him that. But he had to give her a little shit. He _had_ to. "I _thought_ your lipstick looked a bit smudged," he added. 

"Fuck off!" Max shrieked around a giggle. She swatted Billy's arm.

"Hey, don't hit the driver!" he laughed. 

* * *

Dustin looked absolutely miserable in the front seat of the Beemer. Like about twenty seconds from crying. Steve had a pretty good idea about what had happened at the Snow Ball. He figured that maybe the kid had asked some girl to dance, maybe came off just a little too strong, and, well...middle school kids, both boys and girls, were ruthless bastards with no sense of empathy or human decency. Steve pulled over on the side of the road and turned to look at him. 

"You want to talk about it?" he asked gently. 

Dustin shook his head, not even looking at him. 

"You want a hug?" he offered next. 

Dustin nodded. Steve leaned over and hugged him. He pretended not to notice Dustin's tears soaking through his shirt. He patted his back through his blazer. 

"Girls in middle school are really dumb," Steve said. "In a couple years, though, they're going to be lining up to date you."

"That's what Nancy said," Dustin mumbled. 

"Well, she's a lot smarter than me, so you should totally believe it," Steve said, trying to bring some levity to the situation. Distantly, he realized that his car reeked of sex, even though he had and Billy had driven to the middle school with the windows rolled down. He hoped that Dustin didn't notice. He hoped even more than Dustin wouldn't be able to identify what his car smelled like if, on the off-chance, he _did_ notice that something was off. He was thirteen. He was way too young to be exposed to that shit. 

Dustin sniffled and pulled away, a bit, wiping the last of his tears away. 

"She danced with me tonight," he said. "After, like, every other girl rejected me."

"You know what?" Steve said. "I bet those girls saw you dancing with Nancy and thought to themselves, 'shit, I totally missed my chance with him. I better ask _him_ to dance next time'."

Dustin cracked a small smile. 

"It was really cool that Hopper let El come tonight," he said. 

"Yeah, that is cool," Steve agreed. 

"Hey, um," Dustin started. "Are you doing anything over Winter Break?"

"Just hanging out probably," Steve said. "Why? You want to do something?"

"Could we?" Dustin asked. Hesitantly, like he was still questioning his friendship with Steve. 

"Yeah, kiddo," Steve smiled. "We can do anything you want."

Dustin smiled wider. Steve started the car up again, driving down the road as Dustin told him all about some science convention that was going to happen next week one town over. 


	16. "I think a lot of people have treated you like crap."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Sunday, December 23, 1984)
> 
> Billy and Steve take advantage of Steve's empty house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much just smut and angst. 
> 
> Content warnings: Underage drinking (just one drink), anal sex, referenced sex between Billy and an adult (Nate and an unnamed college student)*, referenced sexual assault, internalized victim-blaming
> 
> *So, in previous chapters, I also called what Billy and Nate were doing "sex", and I'd just like to point out that "sex" between a 14-15 year old and a 26 year old is never acceptable. The correct term would be "[statutory] rape" (and also "grooming"). However because of Billy's specific circumstances, he would likely never call it this—he'd call it sex.

Steve lived in a big house.

It wasn't as big as the mansions that Billy had seen when he and his mother had gone on that tour through Beverly Hills when he was eight. But still, it was big for a town like Hawkins. Obviously much bigger than the one-story house that Billy lived in. Bigger than the house that Billy had lived in with his mom and dad, and bigger than Susan and Max's house had been in San Diego, which he and Neil had moved into after the wedding.

Steve greeted Billy at the door with a smile and a gentle tug on his hand to pull him across the threshold. Once they were inside and the door was closed, Steve cupped Billy's face with both hands and planted a kiss on his lips. 

"Hey," Steve smiled. 

"Hey," Billy laughed. "Your parents aren't home right?"

"They're gone for a few hours," Steve said. He kissed Billy again. "We got the house all to ourselves."

"Cool," Billy grinned. "You're sure it's okay I parked right in front of your house right? Like, I can move it down the street if you don't want your neighbors to know I'm here, I promise I won't be, like, offended or whatever."

"You're ridiculous," Steve snorted. "People at school think we're friends, right? Friends hang out at each other's houses all the time."

Steve kissed him again. Billy looped his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. 

"You want a drink?" Steve asked.

* * *

Steve handed Billy a dram of whiskey in a cut-glass tumbler. The Harrington's kitchen was spacious and bright, with new-looking appliances and a nearly all-white color scheme with some blue accents. Steve took Billy on a quick, impromptu house tour, walking him through the first floor: the family room, the living room ("Literally no one goes in here ever, it's such a waste of space," Steve said), the dining room, and the laundry room. 

They walked up the stairs to the second floor, which featured Steve's parents' master bedroom ("No one's allowed in there," Steve joked), a home office with two desks and wall-to-wall filing cabinets and overflowing bookshelves, a guest room...and then finally Steve's bedroom. 

"Diggin' the plaid," Billy said. 

"Shut up," Steve chuckled. "I ordered new curtains, at least, they just haven't come in yet."

Steve kept his bedroom pretty neat. Or maybe he had tidied up because Billy was coming over. The thought of Steve cleaning his room in anticipation for Billy being in it made Billy's stomach do a little flip.

"That a waterbed you got there?" Billy joked.

"Want to find out?" Steve smirked, pulling Billy into another kiss and walking him backwards until the backs of Billy's knees hit the edge of the bed. 

Billy sat back, pulling Steve in by the shirt, guiding him on top of him as he moved backwards, lying on his back on Steve's bed. Steve hummed against his lips, teasingly grinding their pelvises together, over their jeans. They made out like that for a while, Steve between Billy's bent legs, supporting himself on his forearms, Billy lightly tugging Steve's hair with one hand and caressing his back underneath his shirt with the other. It felt good, kissing like this, unhurried, lying on a soft mattress with Steve on top of him instead of sneaking kisses under the bleachers at school or steaming up a car. Steve started to unbutton Billy's shirt.

"Not too cold in here, right?" Steve asked.

"No, not too cold," Billy chuckled a bit. Steve finished unbuttoning Billy's shirt, opening it up to reveal his chest. He bit his lip as he looked Billy over; Billy felt his face heat up, just a tiny bit. 

"Goddamn, baby," Steve said lowly. 

Billy surged up to kiss him some more. As they did, he grasped the hem of Steve's shirt and lifted it off and over his head. Steve practically tore Billy's shirt all the way off his body. They kissed and kissed and ran their palms up and down each other's arms, chests, and backs, feeling and appreciating hot skin and muscles. Steve groaned pushed Billy back so he was lying down again, getting back on top of him. Their bare chests rubbed against each other; Billy felt a bit dizzy, like all the blood from his head was racing down south. 

Judging by the growing bulge in Steve's pants, the skin-on-skin was getting to him too. 

"Can I take these off?" Steve asked, his fingers tracing Billy's hips, right above the waistband of his jeans. 

"Yeah, totally," Billy nodded quickly. As Steve worked the fly of his jeans open, Billy unbuckled Steve's belt. The speed at which they ripped each other's jeans off was probably a record. 

Steve was, like, _fully_ hard and his underwear left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Billy couldn't help but stare. He wanted that monster in him. In his mouth, in his ass, he really didn't care, he just _wanted_. 

"You like what you see, Blondie?" Steve raised an eyebrow. 

"Fuckin' love what I see," Billy grinned.

He pulled Steve back on top of him, bracketing his hips with his legs and grinding up against his hard cock. They moaned into each other's mouths. Steve's hand wandered down to run up and down along Billy's thigh and ass, letting his fingers sneak inside Billy's briefs, teasing the skin there. Billy groaned. He felt himself get even harder. 

"Hey," Steve said, pausing so he could look Billy in the eye. "How far do you want to take this? No wrong answers, just, you know, let me know. I don't want to, like, pressure you into doing more than you're comfortable with."

"Jesus, Stevie _,_ you're not pressuring me into anything," Billy laughed. He kissed him, biting a bit at his lower lip. Steve hummed and kissed him back before trailing his lips down the slope of Billy's neck, pressing their erections closer together, making him squirm. Steve grazed his teeth against his skin, almost biting down but not quite. Teasing a harder bite. Billy groaned. He felt a tiny bit of precum beading at his cock. 

"Want you to fuck me," Billy whispered into Steve's ear. Steve groaned. His hips stuttered.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice ragged. 

"Yeah," Billy nodded. "You want to?"

" _Been_ wanting to," Steve said. He kissed Billy deeper, slipping his tongue into his mouth and pulling his hair. 

"You've done this before, right?" Billy asked.

"Mmhmm," Steve hummed, kissing the other side of Billy's neck. "Have you?" he asked, his breath tickling Billy's ear. 

"Yeah, of course I have," Billy smirked.

Steve nibbled at Billy's earlobe, flicking the earring there with his tongue, making Billy's breath hitch. Traveled south, kissing his chest. Lightly bit down on Billy's left nipple before running his tongue over it. No one had ever— _ever_ — paid attention to Billy's nipples, so he was unprepared for the zing of pleasure it shot directly to his dick. Billy bit his lip, barely containing the surprised _n_ _ng!._ Steve chuckled darkly and kissed the opposite one, sucking it a bit before pulling off. Billy felt his breath quicken. Steve kissed his lips again. He traced his fingertips up Billy's achingly hard cock, over his underwear. Billy choked on his breath. His hips arched up, chasing friction. 

"Steve, come on," Billy pleaded.

Steve grinned against his lips. He hooked his fingers into Billy's underwear, pulling them down and off. Billy scrabbled to rip Steve's off, flinging them across the room. He brought his hands back to Steve's head, tugging his hair, making him groan. It vaguely occurred to Billy that although this technically wasn't the first time they had been naked together, it was the first time that Billy actually _felt_ naked around Steve. The showers at the school gym after practice didn't count. Not in the way that it mattered. There, they couldn't really _look_ at each other. Couldn't take the time to take in and appreciate the shape and details of each other's bodies. Billy reached up and touched Steve. Ran his hands over his chest and shoulders before pulling him down for another kiss. Steve's eyes closed. He held Billy's waist, his thumb stroking at his hip bone.

Steve pulled away for a moment to reach into his bedside table, getting a condom and a small tube of K-Y. 

Billy's heart skipped a beat. They were actually about to do this. He was actually going to have sex with Steve. Like...full-on sexual intercourse, and _God_ Billy hated that term, it sounded so _clinical_ and _gross_. Billy wanted to do this. He'd been fucking _dying_ to have sex with Steve for, like, _months_. So what the _fuck_ was he so nervous about? It wasn't like Steve had been pressuring him to do anything—he'd given him the chance to back out. And besides, Billy wasn't even a virgin. He'd had _sexual intercourse_ (gag) before; he knew what it felt like, knew to keep himself as relaxed as possible. Knew (from Nate) that even when he _wasn't_ totally relaxed, it still felt good for whoever was fucking him. 

Billy still wasn't totally over what happened back in June. He still felt...unclean. Tainted in an irreparable way that made him unworthy of Steve's attention and the way Steve kissed and touched him that was both smoldering and gentle. And the real fucked up part of it was that even if Billy _hadn't_ gone to That Party, even if That Asshole _hadn't_ done what he did, Billy would probably _still_ feel this way. He had always felt like trash. That Asshole had just confirmed what Billy had always known to be true. 

Billy _really liked_ Steve. He hoped that maybe Steve wouldn't notice right away that Billy was an absolute, fucked up disaster. 

"You alright over there?" Steve asked with a smile as he coated his fingers with lube. 

"Yeah, of course," Billy said, forcing his mouth into a smile of his own. 

_Fuckin' chill,_ he told himself. _You already let him fingerblast you into next week, you know it's gonna feel good, just relax and let him fuck you. Just get over it already, you pussy._

Steve moved back up the bed, planting gentle kisses on Billy's lips, cupping his face with one hand as the other reached down, in between his legs. Steve rubbed a finger over Billy's hole, coating it with lube slowly, like they had all the time in the world. When he finally pushed it in and started pumping it in and out, Billy whined into Steve's mouth. One finger became two, gently scissoring inside of him, loosening him up. Steve reached his fingers in further, brushing against his prostate and rubbing softly against it. His cock kicked up against his stomach.

" _Steve_ , fuck, that's so—," the rest of Billy's sentence was cut off by a broken moan as Steve kissed and sucked at his neck. 

"Feel good?" Steve asked against his skin.

"Yeah," Billy nodded frantically, gripping onto Steve's shoulders. His skin felt hot and flushed. Intrusive thoughts about Nate, about That Asshole, about being held face-down in backseats and strangers' mattresses, faded into the background. All that was left was the present with Steve. Steve who asked before touching him, who kissed him for the sake of kissing him instead of as just a prelude to sex. Steve who was using actual lube instead of spit or Crisco or Vaseline. 

He suddenly got the feeling he was taking too long, that he was allowing himself to take too much pleasure without letting Steve claim some for himself. 

"Come on," Billy said, not thinking before speaking. "Want you in me."

"One more, okay?" Steve murmured. He kissed him, caressing his thumb across his cheekbone. "You're still kinda tight, baby, don't want to hurt you."

Steve slipped a third finger in. Billy's breath hitched at the stretch. Steve held his hand still for a moment, letting Billy relax, kissing him softly. Billy threaded his fingers through Steve's hair, tugging a little, making him hum in pleasure against his lips. Billy felt Steve's fingers move inside of him, rhythmically fanning out, stroking his spot on almost every other pass. Billy squirmed. His bent legs twitched. He whimpered. He was so hard it was almost painful. He felt Steve grind his own erection against Billy's thigh. 

"Steve, baby, c'mon, _fuck,_ I'm ready," Billy begged, flushing a bit at how desperate he sounded.

"You sure?" Steve breathed, already pulling his fingers out. Billy whined softly at the sudden emptiness. He wanted to be filled up again. Steve's pupils were huge. His chest was flushed. He looked at Billy like he wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside of him. Steve was so turned on. Steve was so turned on _by Billy._

"Show me what you got, King Steve," he said, hit with a sudden surge of confidence. 

Steve grabbed the condom. His fingers, still covered in K-Y, slipped when he tried to open it. 

"I got it," Billy giggled, sitting up and taking it from him. He tore the wrapper off and, before he could get shy about it, grabbed Steve's hip to pull him closer and rolled the condom on his dick. Steve huffed a noise of surprise. He grabbed Billy by the hair and pulled him into another hungry, desperate kiss. 

"How do you want me?" Billy asked. "Like, on my knees, or..."

"Just like this," Steve said, pushing Billy down so that he was lying on his back again. "Want to see your face."

"Dork," Billy laughed softly, looking away for a second. Steve laughed with him. He bit his lip as he rubbed some more K-Y on his cock. 

"I'm crazy about you," Steve said as he positioned himself over Billy, between the V of his spread, bent legs. "You know that, right?"

"I'm crazy about you, too," Billy said softly. He lifted his head up to capture Steve's lips.

As they kissed, Billy felt Steve line his cock up to his opening and slowly, _slowly_ , push in. Billy gulped in a breath at the dull ache of the stretch, even though Steve had done a good job of prepping him. Billy broke their lips apart so he could focus on his breathing. Steve gently pushed a lock of hair off of Billy's forehead. He looked down at him, the question of _are you okay?_ written on his face. Billy smiled and nodded. He lips parted and his eyes slipped shut as Steve continued to press forward. 

Steve paused when he was all the way in, giving Billy a moment or two to adjust and breathe. Billy felt so achingly full. Split in half, but in good way. Above him, Steve was shaking a bit, holding back the urge to just start fucking into him. Some primal part of Billy _wanted_ that, wanted Steve to fuck him hard and rough.

"God, baby, you feel so good," Steve gasped.

"Come on," Billy pleaded. "Steve, please, I'm good, just _please_ —"

Steve cut him off with a bruising kiss. He shifted his hips back before slowly thrusting forward. It punched a breath out of Billy's lungs. Steve paused again, checking Billy's face for any signs of pain. 

"'m not gonna break, Stevie," Billy said breathlessly. "Come on, fuck me like you want to fuck me."

Steve thrusted his hips again, slightly harder this time. He did it again and again, falling into a steady rhythm. Billy moaned softly, almost inaudibly. He dug his fingers into Steve's shoulders. He rocked his own hips up to meet Steve's thrusts. Steve groaned in his ear. He adjusted the angle, aiming up. His cock nudged against Billy's prostate head-on. 

Billy moaned out loud. Steve kept at that angle, going a bit harder and faster. Billy hooked an ankle over Steve's back, keeping his other foot planted on the mattress for leverage to keep up with Steve's thrusts. Steve moaned deeply, his mouth hanging open slightly. He leaned forward to kiss him. Billy tugged his hair. Steve attached his lips to Billy's neck, sucking and biting at the skin as his cock rammed his prostate over and over again. Billy's legs trembled. Pleasure and tension bubbled inside of him, threatening to make him burst at the seams. He gripped the sheets beneath him. 

"Oh God," Billy choked out. "Oh... _Steve. Steve..._ "

Steve groaned into Billy's ear. He grabbed onto Billy's hands and laced their fingers together, planting them on either side of Billy's head. Billy's breath hitched. He squeezed his hands and looked up into Steve's eyes. His heart fluttered, as corny as that sounded, even to him. 

"You're so fuckin' gorgeous," Steve whispered. He kissed him softly. His hips stuttered a bit. "'m close," Steve groaned. "Are you?"

Billy nodded. He slipped one hand out of Steve's to touch himself between his body and Steve's. It didn't take much—just a few strokes and Billy's back was arching up and he was coming with a broken cry that he couldn't hold in. Steve thrust harder and faster into Billy a few more times before his jaw dropped open in a silent moan and hips stilled. Steve dropped down onto Billy. He propped himself up just enough to share a few slow, lazy kisses with him as they caught their breath. After a few moments, Steve recovered enough to pull out. The movement jolted Billy a little, making him yelp. Steve kissed his shoulder. 

Billy laid back, limbs still quivering. He stared at the ceiling, hearing the sounds of Steve pulling the condom off, tying it the end, and tossing it in a wastebasket somewhere. Billy sat up a little, seeing a box of tissues on Steve's desk. He got up and walked over to the desk on shaky legs, grabbing a few tissues and wiping the come off his abs. Where _was_ the wastebasket? He scanned the room for it. He couldn't just drop the dirty tissues on Steve's floor. His mother had raised him better than that. Hell, _Susan_ had raised him better than that. 

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, his voice light and almost giggly.

"Where's your wastebasket?"

Steve laughed and pointed to it, beside the nightstand. Billy dropped the tissues in. Steve was lying back on the bed, looking utterly relaxed. Watching Billy. Normally, this was around the time that Billy would leave. Whenever he had had sex with Nate, they would separate immediately after, like right after Nate came. Just. Go their separate ways, back to their own lives. Wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. 

"Come back over here," Steve said, his tone almost whiny. 

Billy climbed back into bed, lying down next to Steve, leaving an inch or so of space between them. Steve shoved an arm underneath Billy's shoulders and pulled him closer, rearranging him so that Billy was pressed flush against his side. Billy stiffened. Just a little. He was still trembling a bit from the aftershocks of the sex they had just had. He didn't know how to process the fact that Steve seemed to want him to stick around. Nate had never wanted him to stick around. That club promoter that Billy had screwed twice after he and Nate split up hadn't wanted him to hang out in his college dorm afterwards. Those two men in the cruising spot obviously just wanted to get their rocks off real quick. 

"What's up?" Steve asked. 

"Nothing," Billy said quickly. "I've just...um...I've never done this before."

"What? Cuddle after sex?"

Billy had never cuddled with anyone ever. 

"It's real easy," Steve said. Billy could hear the smile in his voice. "You just lie down and relax and your body will just kind of know what to do."

Billy hesitated. Then moved his arm so that it wrapped around Steve's waist and shifted a bit so that his head was resting on Steve's chest. Steve tightened the arm he had around him a little bit and brought his other hand to rest on Billy's forearm. He stroked his shoulder with his thumb. 

"Yeah, just like that. Just relax into it, baby," Steve murmured. He kissed the top of Billy's head. Left his lips there. Billy's throat tightened. "This feel okay?"

"Yeah," Billy managed to say. His lips were quivering. He bit down on lower one. "Feels good."

Maybe it was the aftermath of good sex. Maybe it was the overwhelming realization that this was the first time that Billy had actually _enjoyed_ having sex. Maybe it was some chemical thing, some overload of oxytocin and dopamine that was rushing past whatever blockage in his brain that kept those things contained and unused. Maybe it was the fact that Steve's skin was so warm and soft and still had the faintest hint of his cologne. Maybe it was the fact that Steve was the only person that made Billy feel so safe and so secure that he could let himself be vulnerable, even though he was _sure_ he didn't deserve to get to feel that way, he was _sure_ that what he _did_ deserve was to be held down by the back of his neck while some asshole pounded into him from behind. 

Whatever it was, Billy could feel tears forming in his eyes. He sniffled quickly, hoping that Steve wouldn't notice. 

"Hey, are you okay?" 

"Uh huh," Billy said tightly. The tears leaked out of his eyes into Steve's chest. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to contain them. 

"What's going on, baby?" Steve asked softly. He moved his hand to card his fingers through Billy's hair. Billy's breath shuddered. 

"Sorry," Billy whispered.

"You don't have to be sorry," Steve said. He planted a feather-light kiss on Billy's forehead. 

"It's just like...," Billy hesitated, struggling with his thoughts, trying to explain himself in a way that made sense but also wouldn't send Steve running.

"You're the first guy who's been, like, nice to me after sex," he ended up saying. "And, like, nice _during_ sex? Like...the other guys that I've been with didn't, like, make sure it felt good for me and didn't want to, like, _stay_ after and I...I guess I didn't realize that I was, like, allowed to want those things? Like, I didn't realize that was even an option?"

Well. So much for making sense. 

"Sorry, you must think I'm a total pussy," Billy tried to laugh it off. 

Steve didn't laugh. He kept stroking his hair. He kissed his head again. 

"I don't think you're a pussy," Steve said. "I think—" Billy heard Steve swallow. "I think a lot of people have treated you like crap. And I think that _you_ think that you deserve it. But you don't. Billy, you deserve so much better than what you've been given. You don't have to settle for shit, baby, you're worth so much more than that."

Billy didn't say anything. He couldn't think of anything to say. But he did tighten his hold on Steve. And he did nuzzle his face a little bit into Steve's chest. He and Steve laid there together, wrapped up in each other's arms, comfortable in the quiet, with the only noises being the sounds of Steve's fingers running over Billy's scalp and through his hair and the occasional sound of both of them kissing whatever skin they could reach in their positions. 

Billy let his eyes close. He listened to the steady _thump thump thump_ of Steve's heartbeat under his ear. He wasn't sure if he believed what Steve said. Wasn't sure if he was even ready to consider that what he said was true. But maybe he would someday. 

Billy was sure of one thing: he wanted to stay with Steve long enough to find out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to add a quick note at the end to make sure you all know that your partner cannot be your therapist. Like, your partner can (and should) be an emotional support (and you should be that for your partner as well), but as far as confronting and working through trauma, you should absolutely seek the assistance of a therapist if you are able to do so. 
> 
> Anyway, take care of yourselves, friends. You are worthy of respect, kindness, and healing <3


End file.
